Vacation All I Ever Wanted

Caution - Discussion of Bodily Functions and/or Fluids Ahead...

There is something about becoming a parent that allows you to discuss bodily functions and/or fluids with relative comfort. My day today has been all about bodily functions and fluids and it is only early afternoon.

This morning I negotiated a truce between Aidan and Brennan as they brawled over the ownership of a rescue hero action figure. (Mind you - we have like fifteen of these same silly action figures - but they both had to have THIS specific one or else!) I negotiated this truce from the comfort of the porcelain throne in my downstairs bathroom. Privacy? Please, not to the mother of three. You better be prepared to conduct your business and settle sibling disputes while your drawers are down.

Later this same morning, I dusted off my trusty ol' breast pump determined to put some milk away for my return to work in one month. As of today, I have NO milk in reserve. NONE. And since Griffin has taken an absolute dislike of any and all formulas, I should really get a pumpin'. I was inspired to begin my pumping program by my amazing friend Danielle who has enough milk in reserve for her nine month old that he may be able to use breast milk as a chaser in college. Yesterday, Danielle managed to pick her husband up from the airport, endure three flight delays, and drive herself to meet a bunch of us girlfriends for brunch while she pumped. WHILE she drove. If there was a La Leche award for breastfeeding super hero of the year, Danielle should totally get it. As it is though, my freezer is empty and the clock is a tickin'. And so I commenced the pumping session. Within two seconds, I am surrounded on both sides by curious eyes. I sit in a chair, pump a pumpin', with Aidan on one side and Brennan on the other. This is the exchange that occurred:

Brennan: "Whacha doin' momma?"

Me: "I'm pumping milk for Baby Griffin."

Aidan: Peers closely at the still empty bottles hanging from my breasts, "Where's the milk?"

Brennan: "I see some! I see some!"

Aidan: "Where?"

Brennan: "There! There it is! Good job momma!"

Aidan: "Hmmm, that's not much though." Looks at me with concern, "Are your boobies still warming up mom?"

Yeah, I gave up with about 1/2 an ounce of milk.

And later, later this morning, Brennan has to go poopies. Brennan likes everyone and anyone in his vicinity to know that he is about to go, is going, and has gone poopies. He will pop a squat wherever he may be and do his thing. This is the exact opposite of his brother Aidan who would disappear for fifteen minutes to go do the deed and then afterwards deny it until the smell became unbearable.

Brennan is still in diapers. I know that I should encourage him to go use the potty once he has announced his intention to go poopies, but I am just too damn tired and well, lazy, to do the follow through on this. I do manage to halfheartedly ask Brennan each time if he would like to try on the "big boy potty", but he always declines.

So, this morning - Brennan announces he has to go poopies as we are all in the playroom. He proceeds to squat and lean on our Fisher Price ramps around garage as he apparently takes care of business. He grunts. He groans. All at full volume. Brennan then starts narrating the progress of the poopy.

Grunt, Groan.. and then "Oooo - it's a hard one Momma. A hard one."

Interested despite himself, Aidan starts to cheer Brennan on with his hard work.

"Keep at it Brennan. You can do it."

I am just trying to keep a straight face. Finally, Brennan straightens, pumps his hands into the air and yells, "AWWLLLL DONE!" Aidan claps. I go get wipes and a clean diaper.

And even later, later, later this morning. Aidan has his own quality time in the bathroom working out his very own poopie. Aidan, however, likes his privacy during the deed. But after it is all finished and complete, I hear a shout, "Brennan, come see my poopies!"

Brennan, in the next room, shouts back, "Okay Aidan."

I hear Brennan running into the bathroom. There is silence. I then hear Brennan, "Wow, that's a big one Aidan."

Aidan: "Thank you Brennan."

Brennan: "You're welcome."

Welcome to crazy. This is my life. And it isn't even over yet for the day.

He's a Sweet Baby, I Swear...

Griffin is the sweetest baby. A snuggler who loves to be kissed and held. He nurses wonderfully well, takes three naps a day, and wakes only once at night to be fed. A sweet delightful dream of a baby who smiles easily and loves to giggle. This is all true. It's just that to be all the above, Griffin has to be with me. Only with me. Otherwise, he turns into what Chris has affectionately nicknamed, "the beast."

He cries and wails. He refuses to eat. He has spit formula back at his grandmother and has clamped his lips shut when offered a bottle. He howls so loud that his whole face turns purple. There is no consoling the beast unless and until I return.

We are blessed to live close to family who are always willing to babysit. The boys are loved and cared for by grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. But even Griffin's grandparents have become a little scared of him. On the rare occasions that I have left him, I return to tales of horror. He refused to eat or sleep. He cried so much and so loud that Brennan walked around the house with his hands clamped over his ears. Miraculously, once I return and hold him, the beast transforms into the sweet baby Griffin that I know and love. It is an instantaneous and amazing transformation. It baffles my husband and boggles the mind of his grandparents.

I am not sure how to help Griffin deal with our separation. I go back to work in one month. In one month, he will be away from me for three days a week, nine to ten hours a day. This will be difficult for us both and it seems almost impossible for Griffin. How do I make it easier? What can I do? I feel like the clock is ticking and I don't know how to ease this transition.

The thing is - I am excited to get back to work. I enjoy my three days at the office. But how can I look forward to something that will be so difficult for my baby? I am at a loss.

In better news, Griffin is now four months. FOUR MONTHS! He is 18 pounds - and in the 95% for both weight and height. My little chunker of a baby. My little love of a beast, what are we going to do with you?

Love and HBO

I have moments with my husband that confirm that we are indeed meant to be together. I am not talking about romantic walks on the beach moments or lovey dovey we are so in love moments, but rather flashes of insight in the minutia of our daily lives that no one else would really understand.

For instance, remember when Aidan was projectile vomiting during our road trip to Florida? The collective response of Chris and I was full out tears dripping down our face, holding our sides laughter at our predicament. Our joint ability to find humor in that instance reminded me why we found each other.

This weekend we had free HBO. FREE HBO! To say we were excited over our FREE HBO would be a slight understatement. Free HBO means FREE HBO ON DEMAND. And FREE HBO ON DEMAND meant we could watch a whole season of Entourage during every moment our children slept. We went to bed Sunday night a little sad with the knowledge that our FREE HBO would be gone come Monday, but - we were content to know we sucked every little last bit of preview out of that FREE HBO.

I had just finished putting the last child to bed on Monday night and was changing into some comfy pjs, when Chris walked into our room and asked if I was coming downstairs to watch tv. I told him I had a few things to do, but I'd be right down. And with glee in his face, he replies, "Okay, but come down soon, we still have FREE HBO." At seeing the happiness this gave him, and the joy it brought me, I know that no one, absolutely no one, would have either one of us. Truly.

Fun.. and then Not So Much

What's Fun? Trying on all your summer clothes for our upcoming trip to Florida and discovering that they all fit. Yipee!!!

What's Not So Fun? Literally, two minutes later, loaning a pair of sweatpants to your mother in law and witnessing in person what my gigantic clothes actually look like on someone who wears a size four. Yep. Not fun. Not so much fun at all.

Hello Blue Eyes...

I have brown eyes. Chris has green. Aidan and Brennan have brown eyes. And then there is number three, little Griffin, with the eyes that are of the bluest blue.

Let's Go to the Beach...

We are off on our annual family trip to Florida in a couple of weeks. With the way we are all talking about it, you would think we were leaving tomorrow. The sun, the sand, the beach, the sun, the ocean, the sun, and oh, the sun. Did I mention the sun?

This year we are travelin' in style baby. Jet Blue and their roomy, comfy leather seats and all the television my kiddies can stomach. This is in stark contrast to our travels of last year. The Griswold family 24 hour overnight driving excursion to Florida. A three year old, one year old, hubbie and newly pregnant and oh, so nauseous me all shoved into an SUV. Let the games begin! Yeehaw.

Chris and I were so naively enthusiastic about our road trip with the kids. We would save money, have fun and truly bond as a family all at the same time. I start to giggle when I think about it. And then outside of Pittsburg, about six hours into the trip, Aidan started projectile vomiting in bumper to bumper construction traffic. I desperately tried to catch as much vomit as I could in an empty Target bag, but the sheer force and volume of the vomit had me beat. We had to pull over at a truck stop to fumigate the car. While Chris cleaned up buckets of puke from the back seat, I begged and pleaded for the boys to stop collecting all the cigarette butts littering the parking lot.

This was six hours into the trip. SIX hours. We all had to get back into the family car and drive the rest of the way with the stench of dried puke coloring the air. This was a hurdle for any person, but a first trimester pregnant lady? Forget it. I basically had to drive with my head out the window to stop myself from dry heaving.

Aidan swore he felt much better after his little fit. Hours later we stopped at a Wendy's in West Virginia for dinner. I have never received so much attention at a Wendy's before in my life. The heads swiveled and turned to follow our progress throughout the restaurant. If that wasn't enough, my children decided to add to the entertainment. As I waited with Aidan and Brennan at the table, Aidan glanced at me, and asked in that bell clear preschool voice, "Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Do you like penises?"

My head snapped as I turned to face him. "What?" I hissed. And then as I took in the horrified stares of the other customers, I whispered to Aidan, "We can talk about this in the car."

"Why mom? Why are we going to talk about penises in the car?" Just then Chris walks up to the table, shoots me a look and interjects, "We're going to talk about what in the car?"

Sigh. Just another Rockwell Family Vacation.

While the rest of the road trip passed somewhat uneventfully, I realized that Aidan had been somewhat scarred from the 24 hour ordeal. We arrived in Florida and headed straight to the beach to allow the kids to play with family that had already arrived. As it got close to bedtime, we told the boys it was time to go so we could all get some much needed rest.

Aidan looked scared for a second and then asked in a shaking voice, "Am I going to sleep in my seat in the car?" Poor kid thought vacation meant sleeping overnight in the family car. Heh.

Florida here we come... in two or three more weeks that is. Until then, Brennan is practicing wearing his swim goggles around the house:

And it all goes to crap...

Why is it that the minute my hubbie gets busy and is forced to go MIA from home to be a busy working guy, home life feels like it all goes to crap? It is like the kiddies can sense my fear and know that I am hopelessly outnumbered. Chris has been up and out of the house before we awake and home well after we all are in bed. I felt sorry for him right up until he had an important business dinner at (ahem) Left Bank. Then I just got a tad bitter.

Aidan and Brennan were wild. They fought, they cried, they refused to go down for naps. Griffin cried for what felt was three days straight. And I was tired. Oh, so very deeply tired. But tonight, the balance shifted the moment Chris rejoined our family. Boys? Totally and completely well behaved. Griffin? Not even a whimper or a tear. Chris thought I made it all up. In fact, my life of a mom home with three boys seemed like a cake walk compared to his busy working days. Right. Sure.

Chris and I used to joke that the moment he left on a business trip, it seemed as if anything that could go wrong, would. Witness the freak week of hell from late fall 2005. Chris was out of town for a week:

On Monday: Brennan, who was one at the time, managed to open the doors to our food pantry, take down a jar of strained peas, and smash the glass so he could SUCK THE PEAS OUT OF THE SMASHED GLASS JAR. I found him, lip bleeding, on the floor covered in green peas. Mind you, this was after he had eaten a dinner that consisted of no less than four stuffed shells, three meatballs, a banana and a yogurt. The kid can put it away.

Tuesday: After work, I ran downstairs to our basement laundry room to throw in a quick load of laundry. Upon walking up the stairs, I heard Brennan and Aidan giggling next to the closed door. I tried the knob to the door and, well, it's locked. Locked. My three year old and one year old locked me in the basement. Did I mention that my husband was like a thousand miles away? I had no phone in the basement. No means of escape while my one year old and three year old ran wild in the home ALONE.

From behind the basement door, I told Aidan to turn the knob to unlock the door. "I can't mom," he replied, "It just keeps turning." Ah... that's right. Because we managed to baby proof the knob to the basement door, but forgot all about the little lock. I ordered Aidan to keep working on the door, while I rummaged through the basement to find something, anything to get me out of this situation.

Ten minutes later, I was at a loss. There was nothing even remotely helpful hidden in our basement. I walked up the stairs again and heard the basement knob turning.

"Aidan?" I asked.

No response. "Aidan? Any luck on the door?" Aidan finally replied, "Mom, that isn't me at the door - that's Brennan. I'm watching tv 'cause the Backyardigans are on."

I bellowed as loud as humanly possible, "Aidan Christopher - Get over to this door immediately." When he was at the door I told him, "Go to where Mommy keeps the knives and get me a knife. Okay?" (Oh, yes I did ask my three year old to fetch me a knife. I plead insanity. My mind was broken down by two toddlers.) I told him once he had the knife, he had to slide it under the basement door to me so I could pop the lock.

After Aidan had the knife in hand, I hear some scuffles from behind the door. "Aidan?" I yelled.

"Mom, Brennan keeps trying to grab the knife." Oh Dear Lord. I screamed in a hysterical high pitch voice, "Whatever you do, DO NOT GIVE YOUR BROTHER THE KNIFE. DO NOT GIVE HIM THE KNIFE." More scuffles. "Aidan?" I screamed. And then a knife appeared under the door.

I popped the lock and opened the door to find Aidan and Brennan standing next to each other, grinning, as they stared back at me. As I looked at them, I was at a loss for words. Finally, I knelt down to their eye level and said in a deep, stern voice, "We will NEVER, EVER do that again. Is that understood?" They nodded their heads in unison with their eyes wide.

Wednesday, early a.m.: We lost power. I had to get two children and myself to work and school without any electricity. But, I still, even after the last few days, managed to remain positive - until:

Thursday. We had a freak early fall snowstorm Thursday morning. It dumped about a foot and a half of snow in our driveway. Chris, still about a thousand miles away, had promised before he left to hire a plow service for the season. Guess what? He forgot. He FORGOT. I had a deadline for work that morning that required I get to the office. And so, I shoveled. And shoveled. The boys wanted to be out in the snow with me. I wouldn't let them and so they screamed and screamed with their noses pressed up against our glass door watching me as I shoveled the snow that would NOT stop. I also started to cry. Once I started crying, I couldn't stop. Big fat tears froze on my face as I shoveled a foot of snow.

Huge breakdown for me at this point. I came in from shoveling, called Chris on his cell and screamed at him so loudly that he, to this day, says everyone in the hotel where he was staying could hear me. Let's just say that he managed to find a plow to come plow me out pretty damn quickly after hearing my major meltdown on the phone. A very well deserved meltdown.

When Chris returned later that night, all was back to normal. The driveway was plowed and the snow had stopped. Life was good. Until the next time...

Mommy, Momma, Mom

When Aidan was toddling and babbling around the age of one, I had sweet mommy fantasies about the day he would utter the word "mom." Momma, mom, mum, mommy - it didn't matter. I just couldn't wait. It knew it would be the sweetest words I had ever heard in my life. And when it happened, it was. I think I probably even cried.

But now - I want it all to stop. I want my children to forget they ever knew how to phrase the word "mom." Stop the mommy. Abandon the mommas. Let go of the mums. I spent many a day wishing for my children to say my name and now I want them to STOP. Please stop.

This morning the boys used the word mom, mommy or momma 72 times. SEVENTY TWO times people. And I only counted for two hours. So roughly from 8 am until 10 am, they called my name 72 times. And Griffin can't even talk yet. YET. Just imagine when I have three children using my name in vain. It's enough to drive you to drink.

Sweet, Sweet Baby of Mine...

It Was the Hair That Would Not Be Tamed

Before children, I swore I would never let my children out of the house with bedhead. I was a superior, judgmental idiot without children who swore a whole bunch of things about how *I* would do things when I have kids. Four years and three children later, I have let go of all my silly vows of how you are supposed to do things. TV? Check. Sugar cereals? Got 'em. PJS all day long? Why not? And messy, unkempt hair from hell? Rock on.

Brennan went to our gym class on Friday sporting this lovely do:

It was hair that refused to be tamed. This brave head of hair defeated water, refused combing, defied mousse and angered hair gel. It just wanted to be let alone. And so we let it alone. And I became the mom with the bedhead kid. And you know what? He was still one of the cutest kids in class - bedhead and all.

Toddlers are Vampires

Brennan was bit by a vampire posing as a toddler in his classroom. There are teeth marks on my angel's back and I would like some toddler vampire blood in retaliation. However, being the smarty pants that they are - the school refuses to tattle tale on the biter. Instead, you get an "incident report" which refers to the biter in code with an alias like "Brennan's little friend" or "Brennan's playmate." Yeah. Brennan's little friend who chomped on his back until it bled. Sure.

Anyway. So with the secret identity of the biter secured, I picked up Brennan from school yesterday. I walked into the classroom as Brennan was standing next to a tiny little slip of a boy who barely reached Brennan's shoulders. Brennan saw me, hugged me and then said "Look momma, Look! This is Johnny. He bites me." Ahha! Angry, vengeful mother meet the toddler vampire.

I hugged Brennan and replied, "Wow, Johnny's such a cute little guy. It looks like you have about fifteen pounds on Johnny, Brennan. I think that if you needed to, you could totally take him out." I smiled and turned to the teacher. "I'm kidding, " I say, "Well, sort of." And I gave little Johnny a nice long, hard look.

I think Johnny needs to watch his back. I'm kidding, of course. Well, sort of.

Steak and B-Ball

We celebrated Chris's birthday last night by indulging in some of Buffalo's finest steak at Buffalo Chophouse. Lo and behold, a bunch of very tall gentlemen entered the restaurant after us and were seated close by. We later learned they were the Duke Basketball Team who had just arrived for a lil' slice of March Madness in Buffalo. I was tempted to ask them to help me sing Happy Birthday, but I had a feeling Chris would have divorced me.

Can you imagine the bill to feed all those guys at the Chophouse? They must have a nice meal budget for their athletes at Duke.

Happy Birthday to You...

Happy Birthday to my lovely, dearest, MacGyver of a hubbie, Chris. He is an amazing husband, a patient and loving father and a damn good entrepreneur too.

Chris turns the corner towards 40 as he hits 36 today.

His birthday also marks the date on which he has now officially been with me throughout his life as long as he has been without me. We aren't going to ask him which part of his life he prefers though.

Happy Birthday my love.

Twinkle, Twinkle, Man Sized Burp...

Brennan and I were softly singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star as we shared some goodnight cuddles. About half way through the song, Brennan let out a belch that I can only describe as "man sized." After the burp, Brennan laughs and says : "Wow, momma. That was me." Then he laughs again and continues, "Momma, I LOVE to burp."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

We finally got my Explorer back a week or so ago with a spankin' brand new transmission. Yipee! So long rented minivan. Good bye annoying beeping sound whenever I drive too close to something. I will not miss you. My kiddies, on the other hand, fell in love with you. They adored your roominess. They oohed and awed over your automatic sliding doors. And they loved your incessant beeping even as it drove their mother insane.

As we pulled into the garage the other night, I drove the Explorer a wee bit too close to the garbage cans. After the close call, Aidan quipped from the back seat, "I don't know, Mom. I think you sort of needed the beeping to keep you from crashing." Sigh. I get no respect. None.

Where Did the Time Go?

There are times that I wake up in the morning and I am slightly shocked to remember that I am a parent. A parent to three little boys. This means that I must be all grown up and responsible - in other words just plain old. I don't feel old. I often forget that I am going to hit thirty five at my next birthday. 35!!! That's old, isn't it?

I certainly felt old as we toured Aidan's school at open house yesterday. Aidan starts kindergarten in September. KINDERGARTEN. When did this happen? He's still a baby, damn it. And in September, I have to be a grown up and put this little guy on a yellow school bus all alone. Alone. Sigh. (Okay, in reality he's going to have like, four cousins on the bus with him since we live in the same neighborhood with my entire family - but it still boggles the mind, okay?)

I felt even older since the school we toured, the school Aidan will attend, is the same school I attended. My math teacher is now the principal. My social studies teacher is still there. It eerily looks so much the same now as it did then. I felt a sense of nostalgia as we peeked in the classrooms. I also felt that slight surprise - that I am no longer the student, but my son is going to be. I worried that I would expose myself as a fraud. I am not really a responsible adult. Nor am I truly a 'real' grown up. But I held it together enough to act as I was both.

I wonder if I will ever feel like I am a mature, responsible parent. Does anyone?

Funky Feet

I love baby feet. I can't help myself. I smother Griffin's toes with kisses whenever possible. Up until a few weeks ago, I would kiss Brennan's feet to death at every diaper change. But, lately his feet just aren't as kissable. They have become, well, a little funkified. The sweet baby smell has been replaced by something almost boyish and it ain't good - even to a head over heels in love mom.

I noticed Brennan watching me the other day as I gave Griffin's feet a little kiss and snuggle. Later that night, I was mid diaper change with Brennan when he lifted his big toddler feet to my face and demanded, "Kiss 'em!" When I didn't respond right away, he yelled, "Kiss 'em momma! Kiss 'em." So I did. I kissed them. No one tells you that part of being a mom is kissing funky feet. If they had told me, I probably wouldn't have believed them.

The Dominos

The boys can take any toy or household object and find a completely different use for it other than the one for which that object is intended. Yesterday, I learned that dominos can also act as hockey pucks. Who knew?

A Study in Contrasts

The boys got new sneakers last week. They are in love with their fancy new shoes. They even asked if they could go to sleep with them on their feet.

Aidan loved his new sneaks so much he wanted to save them and protect them at all cost. While he wore them around the house from the moment he woke up in the morning, he vowed that he would not wear them outside. "Not until spring at least," he swore. We finally got him to wear them to school today by negotiating boots for outside and sneakers for inside play only.

Brennan? He loved his new shoes so much he had to test them out by jumping in the biggest, muddiest, ickiest puddle he could find in the parking lot.

Brothers - quite a study in contrasts.

A Summary

Let's revisit my life of the past three months, shall we?

We missed Christmas because we were all too busy vomiting all over the place. It's lots of fun to have two kiddies with a stomach bug. But when you get to have it right along with them - it's a virtual party. Add a newborn and having to nurse while you fight the urge to vomit. Rock on.

Then we all got better. And Griffin got RSV, bronchitis and a double ear infection. We had to do daily visits to the doctor just to keep him from being hospitalized.

Chris's 26 year old cousin passed away. It was heartbreaking.

During our dog's annual check up, we were told she had bone cancer. We put her to sleep two weeks ago.

Then my four year old and two year old got the cold/flu. Fevers, coughs, runny noses. My two year old also got pink eye.

Then I got the cold/flu. I got better for a whole week. Then I got it again. This time with a nice high fever and chills. The Chris got it, but he won the added prize of a sinus infection. Lucky, lucky guy.

Our Tivo died. (sigh.) Our fridge broke. Our basement flooded. My Explorer's transmission blew up and I am now driving around in a rented minivan from hell. (I hate, HATE minivans. Our rental is particularly annoying because it beeps whenever I get too close to anything. The kids LOVE this feature because whenever it beeps they now yell out, "Too close! Too close" at full volume. I swear every time I hear the beeping my eye starts twitching involuntarily.)

And speaking of eyes? I got an eye infection. The doctor thought it was pink eye. But come on now. Me, get such a normal and easily treatable condition such as pink eye? Please. Of course not. I have some bizarre eye inflammatory disease thingy that requires steriod drops for the foreseeable future. And what's so super great about the drops? If I forget to take them? Then the eye swells up again. Fun, huh? Because every sleep deprived mom who can barely remember her children's names or where she parked the car, should definitely have to be responsible for remembering eye drops every two hours.

This week? Brennan strained/sprained his foot. Sweet. What mom doesn't love carrying around both a newborn and a two year old that weighs close to forty pounds? Even better? When the two year old gets to stay home from school and demand hours upon hours of Dora the Explorer.

I wait with bated breath for the adventures that next week will bring our family. I just can't wait.

The Boys

It's a good thing they are beyond cute because the winter crankiness has settled into our home. This is a bad, bad thing when you consider that winter can keep us buried in snow until May in Buffalo. It seems as if the whining and the neediness multiplies when you are trapped inside for days at a time. Infrequent trips to play out in the snow last all of fifteen minutes, while it takes three times as long to get them all outfitted in their snow gear. Our home looks like Toys R Us threw up and deposited every toy known to man in every possible room, but yet my kids are still bored. In fact, I think we are all just a little sick of each other.

If I have to play one more game of Uno, build one more Lego house, or watch Toy Story 2 for the millionth time ("Buzz flies momma! He flies"), I may go insane. Is it Spring yet? Please, pretty please - is it spring yet?

My Life as a Rock Star Continues...

Not only did I get to go out twice last weekend, but, on Tuesday, Chris and I had our very first joint outing since Griffin's arrival. We were lucky enough to score tickets to Ryan Miller's fundraiser for his new foundation - The Steadfast Foundation. The fundraiser was quite the spectacle - lots of fun drinks and food, auctions and Sabres galore. It was held at the Church - the old church on Delaware that Ani DiFranco rehabbed. The space is just beautiful. The highlight of the evening was the fashion show - watching the Sabres ham it up as fashionistas as they strutted their stuff on the catwalk.

The other highlight? At the live auction - trying to figure out how anyone would and/or could pay $50,000 for Ryan Miller's helmet. $50,000!!!! I overheard the woman who purchased it telling the attendant that her son was a huge hockey fan. Do you think her son will be bringing his $50,000 helmet to school for show and tell this week? Yikes!

While perusing the silent auction items, I struck up a conversation with the woman next to me. After a few minutes of small talk, she introduced herself as "Ryan's mom." She also introduced me to Ryan's grandma and aunt. I also met his father, brother and sister. But, alas, I didn't get a chance to meet the guy with the $50,000 helmet - Ryan Miller himself. Chris and I did get to stand next to Shooter Mcgavin - you know, the guy from Happy Gilmore? They auctioned off his golf club. Needless to say, it did not fetch anywhere near $50,000.

When I got home, I had a harsh dose of reality as I had to finish stuffing Aidan's classroom valentine gift bags. It was a little slow going after the three (or four) glasses of wine and the two (or three) sample size pomengrante margaritas I had consumed earlier in the evening. Who knows what ended up in those gift bags? As long as it wasn't a $50,000 helmet, it's all good.

Who cries at a parent/teacher conference?

Who does? Why, I do, of course. Shocker, I know.

I had Aidan's parent/teacher conference this morning. During the fifteen minute conference, I cried exactly three times. THREE! All good tears, I promise. Tears of pride and happiness over this beautiful child who happens to be my son. Aidan's teacher started the conference by telling me that they only wish they could clone a classroom of Aidans. (Tears began.) Later, she mentioned how sweet and kind he is to the other children. (More tears.) And finally, she told me what a special boy he is and how we (Chris and I) are doing a good job. (And tears yet again.) I need to believe that there are other parents who also cry during their conferences. Please, please, please do not let me be the only one.

The teacher also commented that Aidan loves to hang with the teachers during free time so he can tell them all about his life at home. Great, just what every mother wants to hear. I can only imagine the stuff that gets passed around this school.

There was also a sense of relief that all is well with Aidan and school. I was a little nervous about the whole parent/teacher conference thing and kept preparing myself for the worst. What if my kid was a terror? What if he was going to fail out of pre-K? Motherhood makes you loony. Thankfully, Aidan is doing just fine. Only fourteen or so more years of lower level education and parent teacher conferences left to survive. Whew. Let's hope I learn how to control the tears soon.

Who's Not Perfect?

There is a Laurie Berkner kiddie tune "I'm Not Perfect." Aidan was singing along with the song the other day when he stopped, looked confused for a moment and asked, "Who isn't perfect?"

I replied, "No one is perfect - that's what the song is about."

He looked confused for another second and then responded, "But I'm perfect."

When I laughed, he looked shocked and added, "But I am. I am PERFECT."

I guess I have no need to worry about Aidan's self esteem.

My Life As a Rock Star...

Well, a rock star that gets home to bed by 11 p.m that is...

I had quite the decadent weekend. Two nights out and about - childfree! Chris kept the kiddies happy, fed and in bed while I enjoyed dinner with my dinner club girlfriends on Friday night and attended the Sabres game on Saturday with my dear friend Carolyn. My husband is a saint and I feel refreshed and alive again. I had whole chunks of time without fetching anyone a juice box, nursing for hours on end or even wiping a runny nose. True mommy indulgence.

Payback may be a bitch though, huh? I owe Chris lots of time on the ski slopes for this one.

Two Months..

Griffin had his two month doctor's appointment today. All is well and healthy with our little beaner. He is a big boy - 14 1/2 pounds big - which explains why my arms ache at the end of the day.

At two months, our little guy is such a love. We are over the grumpy Griffin newborn phase and onto a happier, more content baby. He loves to coo and gurgle. When he smiles, his whole face lights up. I can't stop myself from just inhaling every little baby piece of him. When I change his diaper, I always stop to kiss his tiny little feet and toes. The other day, he actually lifted his bare baby feet up to me as if asking me to just give them a little snuggle. When I did, he gurgled and giggled while he lifted his tiny toes for more. As I kiss him, I always hope I remember each smile, each coo. I hope I remember his precious baby scent. I hope I remember the way he snuggles into my arm to catch a quick catnap or the way he rubs his little hand over mine while he nurses. It all goes so fast. I just hope I remember.

The Truth about Sugar Cereals...

Aidan has to bring an empty cereal box into school to make his valentine's day card mailbox. Is it wrong that I want to run out and buy a box of some organic whole wheat/whole grain/heart healthy/no sugar anywhere cereal for him to bring in instead of having him select from the buffet of sugar cereals in our pantry? I just know that my kid will be the only one with a lucky charms/cookie crisp/ cinnamon toast crunch mailbox. I JUST KNOW.

And then More Tears...

I so have a reputation as the big crying mommy at my boys' school.

When I picked Aidan up at school on Wednesday, he had a new book in his backpack all about Doggie Heaven - selected by his teacher Miss Laura from the local library. Aidan showed it to me and I cried (again) in his school hallway. I have always loved the teachers at this school, but this kindness was above and beyond anything ever expected by a parent.

Chris read the book to the boys at bedtime and we all loved the images of doggie heaven.

And Laughter

You think there are things that will never result in a smile or laughter. But children always manage to surprise you.

As part of our healing after losing Maya, we have spent a lot of time talking with Aidan about how we can remember Maya. Yesterday Aidan came up to me and announced that he had thought up a whole new way we can remember Maya. And then he held up a pile of black hair he had found on the floor.

In an excited tone, he continues: "See Mom? We can remember Maya through her hair that we have all over the floors and carpet. There's TONS of it!"

And in spite of myself, I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes.

Maya

We put Maya to sleep today. She was in so much pain and just wasn't herself anymore. She cried and moaned all day long, ate very little and snapped at Brennan when he accidentally fell on her. It was something we had to do, but it is still something so very difficult and sad.

Maya was a part of our family. Before children, she was my constant companion. We took walks together every day - sometimes twice a day. When we lived in Connecticut, our favorite thing to do was wake up early and walk to the beach. Maya would run wild on the sand, chasing seagulls and jumping into the water to swim.

Maya helped me survive the summer when Chris had to go to Colorado for two months for a fantastic opportunity to work with IBM. She kept me company and helped me survive the loneliness.

While we miss her, the hardest part of losing Maya is dealing with the loss through the hearts of our children. Aidan just sobbed when Chris told him Maya had died and was in doggie heaven. Brennan asks several times a day, "Where'd my doggie go? Where's Maya?". The navigation of parenthood is never easy, but explaining death and loss to a two and four year old is almost impossible. But we try. We talk openly about the loss to both boys. We framed pictures of Aidan with Maya for his room. And we just listen to their questions and fears, hoping that we are giving the "right" answers at least part of the time.

We described doggie heaven as a place where Maya could run free chasing birds, barking to her heart's content, and eating all the treats she wanted. That's how we all will remember her.

Intervention

If you ever see me sporting a sweatshirt embroidered with "soccer mom" or some other similar saying, you officially have my permission to shred the sweatshirt and sit me down for a nice intervention.

I can handle the fact that I spend most of my life in sweatpants and t-shirts and that I have only worn make up once in the past seven weeks. It's okay that my hair currently resides permanently in a pony tail. I can even deal with the reality that a hot Friday night in our house is when Chris and I BOTH manage to stay awake for an entire DVD. I understand and accept that a glass and a half of wine is enough to make me drunk. But - if I ever, EVER believe that it is acceptable to break out a "soccer mom" sweatshirt, then it means that I have just totally given up. It's intervention time.

I just hope the poor mom from the Y today that was proudly wearing her "I'm a Soccer Mom" sweatshirt has some nice friends who will hand her a glass of wine and shred that damn sweatshirt. That's all I'm sayin.

Loyal Fans

My brother Travis's girlfriend hails from Michigan and to welcome Baby Griffin she gave us a Detroit Red Wings baby outfit. (GASP.) In response, we took the following photos of the boys:







Thanks to Grandma JoJo for keeping the boys in Sabres gear.

The Dementia of Motherhood

I have never been a completely "together" type of person. I long to be that person, but unfortunately, it's just not going to happen. Motherhood has thrown me into a whole new level of abject confusion - and with each child, I swear I lose a little more of my mind. Recent examples of my maternal dementia:

After a work related phone call last week, I ended the call with a high pitched mommy "bye bye."

I regularly leave the house with toothpaste smeared on the corners of my mouth. Upon discovering this the first time, I wasn't embarrased. Instead, I felt relief that I had actually remembered to brush my teeth that morning.

While nursing Griffin last week, I watched an episode of "Blue's Clues" for at least ten minutes while I was alone in the house. (Noggin - the incurable addiction for toddlers AND their parents.)

I left the boys downstairs watching said Noggin while I ran upstairs to get dressed for the day. While I was gone, Aidan found the remote and changed the channel. I came downstairs and found my four year old and two year old glued to an episode of "E True Hollywood Story." (I think it was on those cute kiddies from Dawson's Creek.)

On two separate occasions, I have dressed and allowed my children to sleep in footie pjs that had socks and/or underwear shoved into the footie. I just never noticed until the next day.

Aidan likes me to help him find words that rhyme. The other night he wanted a word that rhymed with "map". For the life of me, the only word I could think of was "crap."

Chris now has to remind me to turn around to look behind me when I am backing up the car. The first time he did this, I scoffed at him sarcastically and said "fine." But yesterday after I ran over two of the garbage cans, it finally dawned on me that I really DON'T look behind me when I am backing up. Really. Who knew? (Well, except for my very kind and understanding husband that is...)

I completely forgot Chris's work phone number two days ago. He has had the same number for four years. Four years. Huh.

I need to believe my mind will return someday. Someday, right?

The Little Things

Griffin is fully recovered and was cleared by his doctor at the end of last week. Now if I only can convince him that I can put him down for five minutes. It seems he got a little used to being carried around and sleeping on good ol' mom and dad - so now we may have a little problem. Ah well. It's a good problem.

Even better? Griffin is now smiling. Smiling and cooing and entertaining his brothers to no end. Aidan and Brennan are beyond delighted with this new discovery and compete to see who can get the bigger reaction out of our little guy. Baby smiles - such a little thing, but truly a beautiful thing.

Life

Life feels overwhelming lately. It started with Griffin contracting RSV, bronchitis and a double ear infection. We were at the doctor's everyday last week - just trying to keep the little guy from being admitted to Children's Hospital. He needed help breathing, has been on two different antibiotics, and had to have a shot of drugs to help with his infection. He doesn't feel well and it shows. He wants to be held all day and night by either Chris or me or he screams bloody murder.

Not only do I feel physically exhausted from caring for my sick newborn, but the guilt that he is sick is suffocating. Somehow, I blame myself for his sickness. It has to be my fault.

On Friday, Chris's cousin passed away. He was 26 years old and was a good, kind person. He had spent half his life battling cancer. While his passing meant the physical suffering ended for him, there are no words to express the grief of his family and friends. I do not know how his parents and sister will go on. I do not know where you find the strength to endure the loss of a child. And I can only question a world where a person so young, so kind and so loved, has to endure so much.

We had the wakes this weekend and the funeral today. They were all heartbreaking. Tears flooded my eyes as I watched my husband cry as he carried his cousin's casket to the beautiful sounds of "Saints Go Marching On".

In the midst of all of this, Chris took Maya, our black labrador, to the vet on Saturday for her annual check up. She has been limping a bit the last few weeks, but we had attributed this to arthritis. We were wrong. Our sweet beautiful dog has bone cancer.

Maya was our baby before we had children. We were insane with love for this dog. And now... this. I don't know how I am going to explain it to the boys, especially Aidan - who just adores her.

I am a positive person. I try to always find the good in every situation. And if I can't find the good, I try and at least find the humor. I'm not sure I can do either right now. I'm just not sure.

Grrrr...

The stomach virus may have spared our little beaner Griffin, but he is now down and out with bronchialitis (spelling? No idea - but then I am sleep deprived and just brain dead.) Poor guy is hacking up a lung. In a new mommy moment, I have had to learn how to use a nebulizer to help my poor child breathe so he can actually eat.

Just tired, so very tired. I want my life to be about the normal and mundane. Enough with the viruses and flus and bizarre medical contraptions. Sigh.

Merry Christmas to All..

I so wanted to post a few beautiful pictures of my boys in their adorable matching Christmas sweaters surrounded by their Santa bounty. But, our reality did not quite make it to a Kodak moment. Unless pictures of our family beaten down by a stomach virus could make it to next years Christmas card.

So - no Christmas sweaters. No Christmas Eve Italian feast at Nana's. Just mad rushes to keep the kiddies from vomiting all over the place. I even exhibited some amazing mommy prowess and caught Aidan's vomit in a blanket to keep it from the beautiful and NEW sectional. I sure wish I had some pictures of me nursing on Christmas Eve at 3 am as I quietly vomited in a bucket next to my chair, but sometimes you just miss all the good shots. Or even a video of Brennan desperately trying to tell me that he had pooped anywhere and everywhere - and then the expression on my face as I took in the icky stinky mess. (the gift that just keeps on giving... and giving.)

Thankfully, the virus spared Griffin. He is healthy and happy - and that is the best gift our family could hope for this year.

And so they sleep...

In what can only be described as a modern miracle of nature, all three of my boys are asleep SIMULTANEOUSLY. I had to quickly debate the merits of a nap versus a shower. The shower won. And it was the best shower ever. Truly. My nirvana of joint naps lasted 45 minutes until a lone cry pierced the silence. And back to reality we go...

The Proposal

I never know what Aidan will ask - but it is always interesting and will certainly either make me laugh or often, even cry. Take yesterday for example:

Aidan: "Mom, when two people get married, does that mean that they have to move away?"

Me: "Well, sure - when two people get married, they do usually move in together into a home of their own."

Aidan then starts to cry. Big fat tears welling up in those beautiful brown eyes. He then wails, "But I don't ever want to move away from you. Ever!"

Knowing full well that I am going to make life very difficult for the little hussy who tries to steal my sweet boy away from me, I give him a huge hug and respond, "Okay, well, you can just live with me forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

Aidan is quiet for a second and then responds, "I have an idea. How 'bout I marry you and then we can move away and get a house of our own?"

My sweet darling little boy.

Depends anyone?

Over the weekend, Chris stopped at the store for milk and juice. (Staples when you have young kiddies.) Out of sheer desperation, I asked him if he could also pick me up some (ahem) sanitary pads. (Poor guy, I know.) Out of credit to him, he didn't even blink an eye over the request.

I opened up the package he brought home that evening. And inside were the biggest pads I had ever seen in my whole life. They were Depends - undergarments for those with bladder incontinence. I laughed so hard my shoulders were shaking and tears were in my eyes. When I showed Chris what he responded: "Huh - I must have been quite a sight in line at the grocery store with a gallon of juice, a gallon of milk and my bladder control pads." Heh.

Happy Birthday Brennan!

Brennan turned two on Saturday. Two! Although if you ask him, he continues to insist that he was turning three.

Brennan is a child that brings a smile to people's faces merely by walking into a room. It's unexplainable - but true. He is our jokester - always trying to make you laugh and giggle over some antic. Yesterday, he walked around with three rubber bands on his head just to see the reaction he would get from his mom and Aidan. His personal favorite for inspiring laughter from all of us? Brennan's infamous naked somersaults after a bath.

He loves to sing and bust a move. He sings at full volume - belting out his ABCs or more recently, Jingle Bells or he hums quietly to himself as he hugs his blankey and enjoys a quiet moment with the beloved (and addicting) binky.

Brennan so enjoys his food. Before he could talk, he would just giggle over the sight of his next meal. Now he interrupts his eating to exclaim "yum" or "good" or more often "more." He loves everything from tacos to yogurt and of course his brother's culinary favorite "mac n' cheese." Brennan was the only 16 month old I knew that could identify his favorite restaurant "Moe's Southwest Grill" by sight when we drove past it in the car. He even cried if we drove past without stopping in for his favorite chicken burrito.

Brennan worships his older brother and will follow him anywhere and keep up with him in anyway possible. He loves to play tackle with daddy, read books, color and build, build, build!

He is a love. He loves to cuddle, give hugs and a wet smacking kiss that he has to rub in to make sure it lasts all day long.

Happy Birthday Brennan. It is such a joy to watch you grow and live each day.

And Baby Makes Five...

We are now a family of five. Griffin arrived on December 4, weighing 8 lbs, 4 oz., and promptly caused all of us to fall head over heels in love with this little bean of a baby. He has a full head of such beautiful dark hair and the brightest blue eyes. I just can't stop loving him up.

The boys are beside themselves. Aidan is in full big brother helper mode. Our first day home, Aidan ran up to me and demanded, "Where's our baby?" And then begged to hold him and confidently popped the binky back into Griffin's little mouth at the first sign of crankiness. Aidan also had some kind words for his mom after I arrived home. After sharing a nice good night hug, Aidan tells me, "Mom, you did such a good job pushing out our baby, I am going to let you borrow one special thing from my room for the whole night." I left his room with his treasured truck pillow and tears in my eyes.

Brennan is a little more unsure of this new addition. He liked the idea of the baby, but now that it is reality, our "momma's boy" isn't sure what to do with this interloper who demands his momma's attention. I think Brennnan takes comfort in the fact that he can out momma Griffin by having the ability to follow me into the bathroom, shower and wherever else I may find myself in the house. If I do dare to leave a room without announcing it to Brennan, he has taken to screaming "Momma!!!!" at full volume until I announce my whereabouts.

Our first day home was challenging. Griffin was a little put out by his new surroundings and shared his feelings at full volume ALL DAY LONG. It was a nonstop cry fest and caused me to have many moments of "Oh Dear Lord, What Have We DONE?" Even my normally unflappable mother in law appeared a tad stressed out when absolutely nothing could quiet the boy down. Well, nursing would quiet him down. But after six straight hours on the boob, I needed a break.

(Sidenote - add to this hysteria - a husband who has to dash off to work all day for a work emergency that had kept him up until all hours the night before and then we LOSE POWER (AGAIN!) that night. I was holding it together pretty well until the power went off. Then the hormonal breakdown was released in full force. Tears, blubbering, general hysteria, no power, no heat and a baby THAT WOULD NOT STOP CRYING unless I allowed him back onto the cracked, bleeding blistering boobies.)

But then day two home brought us an adjusted and happier Griffin. No tears. Regular nursing demands and his very first normal poopie! (I think it was the poopie that did it. I really do.) Since then, it has been a dream. Well, a dream in which I (and my children) all live in pjs everyday, never leave the house, and watch wayyyyyy too much Noggin. (I heart Noggin. I really do.)

And to top it off? He sleeps! Griffin sleeps! Not the hour newborn catnaps that all new moms must endure, but he nurses at 9 pm and is good until anywhere from 2:30 until 4! 4!!!!!!! Yes, I am still emotionally and physically exhausted, but I know a good thing - and that is a gift for a new mom.

Griffin has completed us as a family - and for that we are all truly blessed.

Christmas Lights Galore...

Aidan and I were on our way back from swimming class on Monday night and we were admiring the many houses already ablaze with Christmas lights and decorations. And then we saw it. The Griswold house. It is a house that already stands out in our town - a polish villa style mansion complete with turrets lost in a sea of traditional colonials. But during the Christmas season, this house could be seen from space. It had lights blinking on every available surface, lit reindeer suspended as if in flight, spinning trees glittering with every color light of the rainbow and lots n' lots of lit up plastic figurines - from Santa to Frosty. Oh - and did I mention the plastic life size manger scene?

We had to pull over to give the decorations our full attention. After a full minute or two of silence, Aidan asks me with awe in his voice, "Mom, do you think Santa lives there?"

Aidan and Brennan all dressed up to munch on some turkey...

Aidan was determined to capture his amazing jumping skills on camera. (Great camera work by Chris!)

No Thanksgiving Turkey Baby...

I really believed that we would have a Thanksgiving baby. Really, truly believed (and was happy about it!) that I would eat my turkey and stuffing within the walls of Children's Hospital. I even packed my bag. But, no baby. Not even a smidgen of a sign (beyond my beached whale appearance), that a baby arrival is imminent.

So, two ultrasounds, a fetal stress test, two doctor's appointments - and the conclusion? Let's give it a week and see what's going on. Grrrrr.

Good news? This has allowed us to deck the halls at our family home. The lights are twinklin' outside. The wreaths are gracing our windows. The tree is up and waiting to be decorated this evening. I even wrapped gifts last night! The only catch? The sixty plus degree sunshiny weather outside. Where is my snow?

I may POP already!

I am beyond ready to have this baby. BEYOND ready. No, the clothes are not all washed. I still have Christmas shopping to do and gifts to wrap. The hospital bag is not packed. The baby's room is a mess, but I need to have this baby. NOW.

My belly has reached epic proportions. Instead of annoying people asking me if I am expecting twins (this stopped being funny three months ago), someone asked me on Friday if I was expecting triplets. After she asked, this complete stranger laughed in a good natured way that had me imagining if anyone could actually blame me if I had hauled off and smacked her. Just once.

I have outgrown 95% of my maternity clothes. If it was not for my beloved black Gap stretch pants and turtleneck sweater (that I wear every day! EVERY DAY!), I'd be taking the kids out while I was in my pjs.

My bed looks like something from Princess and the Pea. In order to get any sleep, I have slowly added padding upon padding to my side of the bed. This has included a mattress pad, a rolled up down comforter and an extra thick foam cover. My poor husband sleeps three feet below me on his "side" of the bed. (I use the term "side" in its most liberal sense - as he currently gets about two inches to park himself and must use his own blankets lest he dare disturb my carefully constructed sleeping system.)

And speaking of sleep - of which I get none - I am awake every hour. Every hour. When nursing a newborn every two to three hours starts to sound like a blissful vacation, it's time to have the baby. IT'S TIME. (An almost amusing sidenote, besides bathroom trips, baby kicks and hip pain waking me up all night long, I have also started to wake myself up with my OWN snoring. Yep. My own snoring is so loud that I can not even sleep through it. Sigh.)

I can no longer see anything beyond the belly. After an ultrasound last week, Chris informed me that I had icky gel all over the top of my pants. But no matter how I turned or contorted my body, I just couldn't see it. He finally took pity upon me and cleaned me up as best he could.

And then I rewarded him with a hormonal break down to rival all other pyscho moments where I yelled and screamed that we had to get a bed for Brennan now or else! Are we planning on moving Brennan out of the crib and into a bed in the next few weeks? Um, well, no. But it is just one thing that I had in my head that we MUST ABSOLUTELY DO OR I CAN NOT HAVE ANOTHER BABY SO JUST DO IT OR I WILL EXPLODE. And do it now. Please. (I didn't really say please, but I did say thank you when he brought the bed home several hours later.)

I have another ultrasound tomorrow and a doctor's appointment on Wednesday. If I could get down on my knees and beg for an induction, I would. But I have a feeling that I would never be able to get up off the floor again.

Life with a Two Year Old Exhibitionist

Brennan's new favorite phrase? "I git nikkid".

Translation for those without toddlers at home - "I get naked."

He usually shouts it out as he makes an attempt to undress himself at home, at the YMCA or even at Dave and Busters smack dab in front of a giant television screen during the middle of a Bills game. (That one raised quite a few guffaws along with some raised eyebrows.) The boy just wants to be naked. And in the middle of winter no less. He's a hearty soul.

COLD STONE as a personality test?

We took the boys for ice cream at Cold Stone on Sunday. As I explained to the boys that they could pick one "mix in" for their ice cream, they watched me very seriously. They both walked up and down the line examining each mix in available.

Aidan was overwhelmed and immediately began his deliberations. Should he go for the white chocolate chips? The marshmallows? Chocolate chunks? Lots of choices, lots of choices.

Brennan walked by each mix in once. He stopped at the jar of m&ms , looked up at me and declared: "I want that." After the ice cream server mixed it all up and handed it to me, Brennan looked around the shop, pointed to an empty table and said: "And I go sit."

And off he went to get himself comfortable at a table where he could dive right into his ice cream. Aidan? Still deliberating.

Love, Lots of Love...

I love Buffalo. I love living here and I just wouldn't want to live anywhere else. I love the city and its quirky neighborhoods. I love the hockey (GO SABRES!) and even the football. I love the theater and museums. And the restaurants - mmm, the restaurants! We like to eat in Buffalo and it shows. From the eclectic gourmet of Left Bank to a good ol' fashioned chicken finger sub - you just can't beat it.

I love my little slice of suburbia that my husband has dubbed "whoville" just twenty minutes away from well, anything. I love the town dance, the ice cream social, toddler times and even holiday caroling.

I love the four seasons here. The damp smell of spring with blossoming trees. The euphoria that summer brings - trips to the beach or pool, outdoor concerts and a new festival every weekend. The crispness of fall surrounded by autumn colors. And the winters. I even love the snow.

I love the people. The genuine kindness of Buffalonians combined with a sense that we are all merely separated by one or two degrees. A city with a small town heart.

I have lived from coast to coast - from Oregon to Connecticut with a few stops in between. I live in Buffalo because I chose to live here. It is and always will be, home. I truly believe Buffalo is one of the best kept secrets and I like it that way.

But what I love most about living here - is that I am blessed to live among my family, surrounded by a bevy of cousins, aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents.

Last night, we all came together to celebrate my grandmother's birthday. As I watched my family laugh together, revel in each other, I felt blessed. And as my cousins, age ten through sixteen, took turns pressing their hands up against my belly to feel the baby move and those hands were joined by that of my mother, and lastly my grandmother, I gave a silent prayer of thanks for living here and for loving Buffalo.

Maternity Leave, Maternity Leave, Oh How I Love Thee...

Yesterday was my official last day at work for six whole months. SIX MONTHS! I love me some maternity leave. While the actual extraction from work was certainly not easy - and led to lots of stress, a few contractions and even a nice migraine, my first day of maternity leave and the sigh of relief it provides with the promise of some actual relaxation makes it all worth it.

Big Sigh. Now I just need to have this baby. But not until I get all my Christmas shopping done, my gifts wrapped, a few things baked, my house clean and organized, baby clothes put away and my hair highlighted. Hmmm - did I just say something about relief and relaxation? Yeah, sure.

Oh Baby...

Random baby on the way moments with my two adorable little boys.

Brennan has taken to lifting my shirt to gaze at my rather large pregnant belly. After a moment, he gives the belly a nice pat and says "Ha ma baby" (toddlerease for "Hi My Baby.") He then puts my shirt down and gives the belly another nice little pat. I have also caught him pulling up his own shirt and gazing at his own cute lil' pot belly while he gives it a poke and says "Baby?"

Chris and I think we may have a name for our third little boy. But as we are still not a hundred percent certain, we decided to keep the name to ourselves for now. We ran the entire list of names currently under consideration by Aidan and he enthusiastically picked the same name that was the front runner. The next day, we found out Aidan shared our name selection with both Chris's parents and my mom. When, laughing, I asked him about keeping the name a secret, he grudgingly admitted that he also told all his friends at school, his teachers and one of his cousins. And that is what a preschooler can do with information in a 24 hour span of time. It also reminds me that within 24 hours of my taking the pregnancy test with this baby number three, Aidan's entire school knew the results. Apparently, Aidan even walked his teacher through how the "two lines on the stick means my mom is having a baby". There is no such thing as privacy when you are the parent to a preschooler.

Batman and Superman Trick or Treat and Live to Tell the Tale...




While Aidan could barely contain his joy over the unlimited candy promised by trick or treating, Brennan was not convinced. His foray into trick or treating lasted for all of one house after which he started yelling at his father in broken toddler english "I wanna ma momma" repeatedly until Chris brought him home. He perked right up, though, when he realized that he could have candy, his mom, and an adoring public who came right to his very own door. Why deal with that whole trick or treating thing anyway?




Despite a little rain, soggy feet and lots of mud, Aidan pronounced the night a success. He is adamant that his secret identity is secure because no one recognized him behind his mask.





My Little Superheros...

Ah the times, they are a changin...

The boys were settled in for their hundredth screening of Toy Story 2. As they giggled over Woody, Jesse and Bulls Eye's antics on a record player, Aidan turned to me and asked:

"What does a record player do?"

I think Chris and I were both a little stunned by the question. We realized that beyond his little Toy Story addiction, there was a chance that Aidan would never, in his lifetime, encounter a record player. He is a four year old who regularly requests "his" playlist from my IPOD. But a record player? Ancient, baby, ancient!

And all I could remember was my memory of dancing around my mom's living room as a preschooler, grooving to "Cookie Monster at the Disco" as it spun on the turnstile of an ancient record player. Today, it's Laurie Berkner downloaded from ITunes. The times really are a changin...

Over the summer, Aidan created what he dubbed "no pants day." In his mind, what better way to enjoy the warm summer weather than to shed his pants and show off his dapper Batman underwear. As time went on, "no pants" day became an almost daily request and he even cajoled some friends on playdates to join in the fun. (Thankfully, their parents were quite understanding at picking up their son as he ran around the house in his undies.)

But, alas, now the cool weather is upon us in Buffalo. And I had to regretfully tell Aidan that we must take a break from his "no pants" day. He only agreed after I promised him, really promised him, that we will have warm weather here again - and thus the return of "no pants" day. We may have to come up with a special celebration to mark its return in the Spring.

Got Cake?

I went to Target yesterday because I told myself we needed dog food and toilet paper. And we did. Really. But I knew deep down inside, that we also really needed new rugs for our entry way, new throw rugs for our kitchen and lots n' lots of boots and shoes for the boys. So I got all of that and then some. I also bought halloween candy. And flannel sheets. I seriously have a Target problem.

Part of the problem is my belief during the advanced stages of all of my three pregnancies that I will be completely confined to the house after the birth of my child. Therefore, I must make sure I have purchased, stocked, and tallied every little thing that anyone may need prior to giving birth. This fear is only compounded when we talk about giving birth within weeks of Christmas. I must organize! I must shop! I must stock up!

All this from a woman who managed to still attend and party at Octoberfest in Ellicottville with a five week baby snuggled to her chest in a Bjorn. And travel to Florida (ALONE!) with a newborn and a two year old. But despite a historical evidence to the contrary, I am convinced the birth of my third will REALLY be the defining moment that requires I never leave the home ever, ever again. Even to get to Target. Do you think Target will miss me?

The Surprise Storm of October 2006 and How We All Lived to Tell the Tale...

Where does it snow in October? I'll give you three guesses! I think I may have to start stocking my boys with boots, hats and gloves in August just to be safe for next year. As it was, Brennan and Aidan embraced the new snow Friday morning with glee and romped with their cousins while outfitted in sneakers, sweatpants and barely fitting winter coats. Snow angels, snow balls and even a little snow snack for Brennan - but that was the fun part.

The not so fun part? The fact that our, along with 200,000+ Buffalonians, electricity went out Thursday night - leaving us with no heat or sump pump, no lights, and no ability to woo my children with a (cough, cough) educational DVD so Mommy can recover from the two hours of sleep she had last night. The city and surrounding environs were clobbered by the abundance of wet, heavy snow clinging to the trees. Phoeby has great pictures at her blog that capture the storm's aftermath.

I packed up the kiddies and set up camp as a "basement dweller" (tm Dr. Dylan) at our gracious friends' home of Dylan and Christine. Chris, as the man of the house, held down the fort by emptying our basement of all items, bailing water and transforming himself into the reincarnation of Macgyver by hooking up our sump pump to his car battery to keep the water at bay. He did all this in an unheated home, in the dark, and caught about an hour of sleep here and there. He is a saint. Truly.

The boys loved the sleepover and the opportunity for unlimited play with their pals Ellie and Casey. We had heat, electricity and television - but (and isn't there always a but?) we lost water around 5 pm. Yes, water. Because the generator that distributes the water for our area apparently also lost power and that means NO RUNNING WATER. It was at this point I felt like we were indeed in the midst of surreal situation.

On Saturday, Chris found a generator by outrunning two hundred desperate shoppers at our local Sears. (All that marathon training really did come in handy, didn't it?) My Macgyver got our sump pump all hooked up and pumping and joined us as a basement dweller. We also got running water back. We all celebrated by having dinner out with the kiddies at the illustrious gourmet bistro that is Wegmans.

Sunday? Yep - still no power. We decided to give our friends' a little break and moved in to my grandparents' home. They were the only ones in my extended family with heat and water. This meant a warm home full of cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents.... a very full home indeed. (My grandfather commented that "this is a true test as to how our family really does get along.") But strangely enough - it was fun. My aunt cooked a big dinner. The kids played and had a great time. Aidan and Brennan loved having even more time with their cousins. The adults laughed and chatted while watching the Bills go down in flames. Family is a truly wonderful thing.

And on Sunday afternoon, my own personal Macgyver rigged our heat to our generator, which meant that we could move back home. Home. We had one light, a fridge and heat, but we were home.

Monday afternoon? WE GOT THE POWER! I was never so happy as I loaded that dishwasher and pressed the start button.

Unfortunately, after Monday and even today, there are still people here without power. Still. It is disconcerting to realize how dependent we are on comforts we take for granted every day.

Everyone in Buffalo looks a bit shell shocked and so tired, so very tired. I think we need a group vacation as a city to recover from the ordeal. Oh - and the snow? Gone. Let's hope it stays away until at least November. Although my boys are wishing otherwise...

Open House!

We had open house at the boys' school last night. Chris and I split duties and he put Brennan to bed while Aidan took me on a tour of his preschool classroom.

As part of Aidan's tour, I got to read his "journal". (Yes, my four year old journals as part of his daily school routine. Scary, isn't it?) We visited the classroom hamster "Lola". And I learned that Aidan's favorite foods consist entirely of cheetos, cheese crackers and cookies. (This in a sea of children who claimed to just love yogurt, milk and fruit! Sigh. Why is it always my child? Why?) We also got to read the special books prepared by Aidan's classmates in which Aidan's contribution consisted of:

Things I Like to Do With My Family: Aidan: "I like to play on my swingset with my family."

Things I Would Like to Do With My Friends: Aidan: "I would like to go in a spaceship into outer space with my friends Liam and Nicole. And My Mommy and Daddy."

Things I See in the Mirror: Aidan: "Two brown eyes."

We stopped by Brennan's classroom to say hello to his teacher "Miss Judy." Miss Judy told us that Brennan has become quite the class nurturer. Anytime any of the other children in the class cry or get upset, Brennan runs to find their blankie or special stuffed animal to calm then down.

On our way out of the open house, Aidan managed to leave with two chocolate chip cookies. My little junk food junkie. I have to start pushing that yogurt and fruit!

Chris and I took the boys to a playground over the weekend to romp around in the beautiful weather. While most 21 month old children are content to ride in the baby swing with a lazy, easy glide, Brennan had to have the "big boy" swing right next to his brother. Chris compensated by pushing Brennan gently to ensure that he didn't get too high. Brennan was not, to say the least, pleased by the gentle swing maneuvers.

"No, No, No!" he yelled emphatically, kicking his legs in frustration.

"Brennan, do you want to get off the swing?" asked Chris, confused.

"No. Daddy. Up, Up, UPPPPPP!" Brennan yelled with force.

He kept on yelling "up" until the swing was flying back and forth in wild abandon and it looked like his toes could touch the leaves on a nearby treetop. Only then, did he stop and just grin with pure joy. He even let loose a few giggles too.

We are so going to have our hands full with this child.

It Seemed Like a Hallmark Mommy Moment...

Aidan and I were sharing some cuddle mommy time before bed last night when he started to pepper me with questions about the new baby. He even talked to the baby as he patted my belly to say hello.

"How big will the baby get Mommy?" he asked, as he whispered words to my belly.

"A little bigger", I replied.

"And will your belly get bigger too?" He asked.

"My belly will get bigger. Each time the baby grows, my belly will get a little bigger."

He gazed at my belly thoughtfully for a moment or two and then asked with the innocence of a preschooler: "And why does your bottom keep getting bigger too?"

OUCH! I just wish I could have told him that I was about to give birth to a second baby straight out of my big, growing butt, but that just wasn't something I wanted repeated to his preschool teacher this week.

HOCKEY IS FUN...even without the ability to consume beer! Chris and I went to the home opener of the Sabres last night. It was an unbelievably exciting game, a real nail biter that went into overtime and a shoot out to determine the winner. At the end of it all, Sabres prevailed and the fans went crazy. Quite the night.

On a sidenote, one of the things I love about Buffalo is while it is a city, it often feels like a small town where you can run into people you know, knew or are even related to, in the unlikeliest places. Last night, amid 20,000 people, almost every third person we saw, Chris and I knew - some of whom we haven't seen for over eight years. It creates an atmosphere of the familiar and well, of being home.

AND YET ANOTHER MILESTONE...

Aidan, my big boy preschooler, is going on a field trip. A field trip! His preschool class is traveling to a country farm to pick pumpkins, drink cider and indulge in hay rides. He gets to ride a bus to the farm - something he has never done before.

His teacher asked me to sign the permission slip when I picked him up from school yesterday. As I read the slip, tears clouded my eyes. Yes, I cried over my son's first official school field trip. I even cried a bit for my first permission slip signature. And I cried because the thought of Aidan riding a school bus reminded me that kindergarten is only a year away.

The teacher assured me that other moms had also shed a tear or two over the permission slip, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she may have just been trying to make feel better.

LONGEST DAY EVAH!

I am 32 weeks pregnant and I am tired, so very tired. I don't sleep at night, I just merely nap in between frequent bathroom trips and hip/leg spasms. This whole not sleeping thing, combined with the hormonal wonders of pregnancy, has led to even more tearful moments than usual.

And this morning saw me weeping as I drove around downtown Buffalo desperately looking for a parking spot, any old place to put my car, so I could get to work. My normal parking ramp was full. And my lovely friends who attend the parking garage who usually sneak me in anyway - waved me off - when I gave them my desperate drive by. And did I mention that it was a torrential downpour? And I had no umbrella?

I finally found a spot across the street from my parking ramp in a gravel lot that requires you pay the meter five dollars. In singles or quarters. And all I had was my fresh from the ATM twenty dollar bill. So, there I am, in the downpour, with rain and tears streaking down my face, stopping Canadian tourists asking them for change for a twenty. Sigh. It was not one of my best moments.

But then! My parking attendant hero saved me! He did! He did! The unbelievably nice parking lot attendant from my daily ramp RAN ACROSS THE STREET IN THE DOWNPOUR to tell me that I could park in their lot. He told me that he hadn't recognized me, and of course I could park there! It was easily one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.

And then off to work. Wet, tearful and tired, but off to work. Work that required I stay an extra two hours to be trained on our newfangled email system called Microsoft Outlook. Yes, two hours people! On outlook. Really. I can not even begin to describe the sad humor that was the outlook training.

When I finally made it home from my twelve hour day, both boys were already fed, bathed and fast asleep courtesy of my husband, uber daddy. But to my delight when I tiptoed into Aidan's room to do my last bedtime check, he sleepily and delightedly called out "Mommy!" and pulled me close for a tight hug. And that was enough to wipe away the rest of my day and allowed me to go to bed for my nighttime nap with a smile.

When Aidan was two, I took a picture of him strolling by himself along a path lined with trees just showing the first autumn colors. It is one of my most favorite pictures of Aidan, even though it only shows him from behind. But to see his confident stride on legs with melting baby chubb, surrounded by trees bursting with fall colors captures so much - a memory, a perfect day, and Aidan as he left babyhood fully behind as a full fledged toddler.

Today, I took a picture at the same park with both my boys. Aidan is now four and Brennan almost two. It was the same path, same season, almost two years to the day of the first picture. It reminded me that life truly does go so fast. They grow before your eyes and sometimes we forget to stop and just watch in awe. They held hands as they walked the park path - and soon, there will be a third set of hands for all of us to hold.