A Legal Field Trip

My adventures in law took me to Roswell Park Cancer Institute today. It was my first visit to Roswell and I was beyond impressed by the facilities and the people. It says volumes to me when a cancer hospital and research center houses its executive offices within the hospital.

The people who work at Roswell devote such focus and enthusiasm to the treatment and cure of cancer. Their focus and dedication are admirable. They believe in what they do. Their energy and drive make a difference. I was in awe of them, while at the same time a little jealous of them too.

After watching the pain and emotional roller coaster ride suffered by Chris's aunt and uncle when his cousin passed away from cancer last year, I have a new found respect for the amazing level of care and research in Buffalo. We are so fortunate to have Roswell available to us here, in our very own backyard.

On the Move

Pack up the itty bitty army men, the mini legos and marbles. Put away the connect four pieces, the little trains and puzzle pieces. Griffin is trying to crawl. He can get himself up and push himself just a teensy bit forward by straining with his legs. It's only a matter of time before this child is on the move.

We will now accept wagers on how long it will take for Griffin to injest one of the million and one toys littering our floor. Let the betting begin!

Sunday, Sunday

On Sunday, Brennan slept in until 8:30 a.m. For those of you without children, the use of "sleep in" with the time of "8:30" may seem like a typo. It's not. For parents with young kiddies, 8:30 seems like middle of the day.

Brennan awoke with an exuberant enthusiasm brought on by an abundance of sleep. He ran from his room yelling, "I'm awake! Momma, I'm awake." While he came down the stairs, slowly, step by step, he kept yelling, "Momma, I'm awake!"

I yelled from the kitchen downstairs, "Who's awake?"

"Me!" He yelled back.

"Who?"

"Me!" He jumped down the last step, ran into the entrance of the kitchen and threw his arms wide. "I'm awake!" He paused. "And I want bacon!"

I almost spit out my coffee I laughed so hard. "Bacon? How about some cereal or waffles to go with that bacon?"

"No, Momma. Just bacon! Mmmm, Bacon!"

How can you not just adore this child?

After the bacon was eaten and a (ahem) few Max and Ruby's later, we headed out for a family portrait. Chris's mom will turn 60 next month. In honor of her birthday, we all got spiffed up for a family picture day. As the only contingent of the family with young children, I was a tad stressed. I knew pictures could go either really, really well or be, well, hell. Surprisingly enough, it went fine. The boys held up well. No tears (not even from me - who hates to get her picture taken! Hate!) And I think we even took a few good shots. Our individual family shot actually turned out okay too. See?



Don't we look like one big happy family?

The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

We made it through the tour of the classrooms without incident. (By without incident I mean no tears or crying. By we, I mean Aidan and me - as the odds of Chris crying or tearing up at kindergarten orientation are slim to none.)

We made it through the chatting with the teachers and the walk around the school. Aidan made it through the bus safety video, while I, um, well, had to choke back tears maybe once or twice. I have no idea what exactly in the bus safety video from circa 1983 set me off, but I had to pinch myself to keep the tears from flowing. I must have been doing a pretty bad job of hiding the emotional rollercoaster though, because Chris caught a glimpse of my face and actually asked if I was okay. Me, okay? Sure - please, it's a safety video. (Blink back tears, pinch leg, try to smile.)

After the video, the teachers asked the kiddies to line up next to the door for the bus ride. Aidan started to get in line, looked behind him and realized I wasn't joining him in the line, and it all sort of went downhill from there. He may have clutched my leg, cried a bit, maybe even engaged in some screaming. I froze up with a polite embarrassed smile on my face while every other mother watched their child walk in a single file line with excitement to get on the bus ride. Mr. Bus Driver took pity on me and invited me along on the bus ride with the kiddies. Thankfully, there was another mother with a hysterical child who got to enjoy the bus ride with me. Otherwise, it was us, the bus driver and approximately thirty kindergarteners out for a spring drive around town.

And the wheels on the bus go round and round...

Dreams

I used to dream of adventures and of travels. I used to dream of goals I would accomplish and people I would meet.

Now, three children later, I dream of sleep. Sweet, uninterrupted, blissful sleep. A sleep where I would slowly wake up entirely on my own with a yawn and a sigh, content to roll over for ten minutes more. Sleep without cries of children in the distance. Sleep, sweet, sweet sleep. Just sleep.

Don't Be That Mom

Tomorrow morning is Aidan's kindergarten orientation. Kindergarten ORIENTATION. My baby has to be oriented for kindergarten. As part of the orienting, the kiddies get to take a bus ride with their new classmates. I have been preparing Aidan for the bus ride and orientation to avoid the inevitable breakdown. I also, well, have been preparing myself for the bus ride and orientation to avoid my inevitable breakdown. Literally, I have to have pep talks with myself about not crying. I do not want to be THAT mother. The mother crying and clinging to their child like a complete lunatic. Even though, well, I have a strong suspicion I just might sort of be that mother.

As I put Aidan to bed tonight he asked me questions about what to expect tomorrow. After a few questions, he was quiet for a little bit and gave me a long, hard hug. Then he turned to look at me and asked, "At kindergarten, can I take my blankies with me to hug?"

Tears in my eyes. I gave him a hug and played the mom card of "we'll see."

If I can't make it through the discussions about the orientation without crying, how in hell am I supposed to survive the actual orientation? Or even worse, (sigh) the actual kindergarten? I am so going to be the hysterical pyscho mom. Let the therapy for my child commence.

The Dance of the Grumpys

Grumpy morning for me. Chris nudged me at 6:15 to wake me for the shower. I had just fallen back asleep after feeding Griffin at 5 am. I may have bitten Chris’s head off just a lil’ bit, but I finally crawled out of bed and made it to the shower muttering grumpy, pitiful platitudes about a lack of sleep.

The kiddies didn’t want to wake up. I forgot to make the bottles last night. The shirt I wanted to wear needed to be ironed. Griffin wanted just one more feeding before I left for work. In other words, we were all going to be late.

My grumpiness increased until I was officially on edge. I was trying to make my lunch as I yelled to the boys to get their shoes on NOW. Brennan was playing with magnets on the fridge. He found the magnet that played music, pushed the button to make the music play and yelled to me, “Dance, momma, dance!”

“Brennan, Mommy is trying to make her lunch, so…”

He pulled the magnet off of the fridge, walked over to me and pushed the button again.

“Dance, Momma, Dance!” Aidan walked over to me giggling and joined in the fun.

“Come on Mom,”Aidan said as he laughed, “Dance.”

And so I did. I made my turkey sandwich and danced around the kitchen. I wiggled my hips, kicked my legs and moved my butt. The boys dissolved into laughter. We all danced and the grumpiness was gone. Just like that. I left for work smiling without a grumpy thought or pitiful sigh in sight.

Years from now, we aren’t going to remember the grumpy mornings, but I hope we all remember that we danced.

But Why?

Chris and I both had early meetings this morning so I had to wake up the boys to get to school. When I woke Aidan up, he smiled at me, sat up quickly and asked: "Did we win, Mom?"

I rubbed his back absentmindedly and asked "What?"

Aidan jumped out of bed and asked again, "Did we win? Did the Sabres win their game last night?"

"Oh, no honey, the Sabres didn't win. We lost."

"We did? We lost?" Aidan's face was a mixture of disappointment and confusion. "But Why?" "Why did we lose?"

Sigh. I only wish I knew why. I wish I knew. Aidan's expression of disappointment and confusion will be echoed across the faces of all of Buffalo this morning. But why?

If Only

Home, to me, means to live amongst family. I live surrounded by family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, moms - we have them all here.

It's wonderful, but sometimes I am selfish. Because what I don't have here are my brothers. My brothers left with lofty goals and found greener pastures in Manhattan. They live fancy lives in sophisticated Manhattan. They jet set. They party at hours when I am doing middle of the night feedings. And they are not here at home. They are someplace else.

I know Manhattan is not all that far away, but sometimes it feels as if it is at the other end of the world. This distance grew once I had children. I want my boys to know their uncles. I want my children to learn from them, to laugh with them, to turn to them when they need help. I want them to love each other. If only they lived closer. If only they moved home. It's hard to build a strong relationship with such a distance. If only.

But I have hope. I watched my little boys play with abandon on Sunday with their uncles. It was enthusiastic games of tackle and chase, video games and lots of jokes and laughter. It was only a couple of hours, but it gave me hope that sometimes the distance doesn't really have to matter at all.

Mother's Day Social

Friday was the boys' school mother's day social. It is always a cute affair. Each class sings songs or provides some sort of entertainment and the classrooms are decorated with mom inspired posters and designs created by the kiddies.

This year we missed the entertainment because we were ten minutes late. Sigh. I was the only mother late, but trying to get three children out of the house prevents me from arriving anywhere on time, even with an abundance of effort and good intentions. Nonetheless, the true entertainment for me was the posters Aidan's class created entitled: "When I am at School My Mother is..."

..."working"
..."sitting in a chair all day long"
..."doing pilates"
..."working on the treadmill." I howled at the last two. And who are the yummie mommies in the class? Hee.

Thankfully, the kids prepared those posters on a day Aidan is not at school, so I did not have to endure Aidan's take on my day.

Aidan's class also drew pictures of their moms and completed several sentences provided by their teachers on the picture. My picture gives me both a nice yellow blonde hair color with black mixed in. I think Aidan is trying to tell me it's time to get my roots done. As for the sentences about his mom, Aidan's went like this:

My mom is: "a lawyer."
My mom likes to: "clean the playroom." This is beyond funny if you could actually see our playroom.
My mom says this all the time: "I love you."
I love my mom because she "gives me lots of hugs and kisses."

Good son. Good, good son. When I think of the things he could have written, I shudder just a bit.

It reminds me of the week his last class was learning about feelings. The teacher had an inspired moment when she did posters entitled, "I feel sad when..." and the kiddies had to complete the sentence. I think there were alot of mother's drinking after the public humilation caused by the display of those posters.

I feel sad when "my mommy yells at me"; "my mommy tells me to be quiet"; "my mommy goes to work". Yeah, you get the picture. Aidan's poster? I feel sad when "my mommy won't get me a book." Great, huh? I am the mom who refuses to allow her child to read! Humpf. I think the teacher reconsidered that lesson plan.

In related child news, Griffin is now a mad roller. He rolls over and promptly screams in frustration when he discovers he is on his belly. You roll him back on his back and in less than a minute, he is back on his belly. Lots of fun. Griffin is also onto food. So far both prunes and sweet potatoes are a hit. Cereal, not so much. He spits it out with a face of disgust. I can't say I blame him.

Last Day was the Hardest

My last day of my first week back at work was, strangely enough, the most difficult. I sailed through day two, but hit a wall on day three. I missed the kids. I questioned my decision to work. And the politics of life in an office annoyed the hell out of me.

The worst moment of my day? At 4:30 p.m, Chris and I were offered tickets to last night's Sabres game by my very kind uncle. But - two and a half hours before the first face off, what are the odds I could find a babysitter for my three children? You would think the odds would be pretty good considering I live within a mile of my entire family. Nope. Not a babysitter to be had. Not a one. So with tears in my eyes, I admitted defeat, took one for the team and told Chris to invite a buddy to the game. It killed me to miss the chance to see the playoffs in person. KILLED me. Sigh.

I put the kiddies to bed and watched the game at home, by myself, while I munched chocolate chip cookies and drank a corona with lime. An odd combination, but it worked for me and my pisser of a mood.

Dandelions are Flowers Too...

When I picked Brennan up from school yesterday, he handed me a clump of wilted dandelions he had clenched tightly in his fist.

“I picked ‘em for you Momma,” he said with a wide grin as he gave me a hug and handed me the sad, sad dandelions. The teacher smiled and told me Brennan had picked the flowers during their morning walk. He clutched those dandelions all through the morning, all through lunch, during nap, while eating his snack and while he patiently waited for me in the afternoon. The dandelions were crushed and pretty sad as flowers go, but they were the most beautiful buds I had ever been given. I could not have loved them more.

Sidenote: Take that you horrible, mean, elitist neighborhood association that complained because we may have had a few dandelions littering our lawn! See? Dandelions can be beautiful too.

Day Two

Day two is easier. I loved Griffin up this morning, but while I was sad when I left him, I managed not one tear. I confess to a tear or two mid-day, but it's still progress.

Only one day to go in my work "week!" And then I get four in a row with my boys. How can I ask for anything more?

Lawn-gate

We moved about a year ago. Our new house is only a mile or so away from our old house, but it is a little newer and within walking distance to my entire family. After a year (A YEAR!) of offers and counteroffers, walking away from the table and back again, we negotiated a fantastic deal on our lovely home.

Our lovely home sits in a pretty nice neighborhood. A neighborhood of much larger homes and fancier lifestyles than ours. Our lovely little home is the smallest and most modest of the lot of homes.

Our neighborhood has a mandatory neighborhood association. The association requires that we pay dues so we can enjoy the private park and pond, and attend such fun activities as the neighborhood family picnic and women’s Christmas cocktail party. (I was giving birth during the Christmas party last year, but I so can’t WAIT to rock out at next years!)

Apparently, the association also has rules and regulations as to how we keep and maintain our home. We did not know this until Saturday when the Board Association President gave us a nice friendly call to discuss the state of our lawn. Yep. Our lawn.

Do we have trash strewn about the grass? Nope. Do we have a car without tires up on blocks in our driveway? No. We just haven’t put forth “enough effort” into the landscaping and maintenance of our lawn. We may have a couple dandelions or so. (Hey – Aidan thinks they are flowers and he likes to pick them for me! I keep them in a vase on the kitchen counter.) And our lawn may not be as green or as well fertilized as our neighbors (who all have professional landscaping services!), but it’s not overgrown or embarrassing. I swear.

We were told we have to put forth “more effort” into the landscaping of our lawn. Our lawn should look as nice or more so than our neighbors. Are these people truly, really, for real?

It’s official. We are SO the white trash of our neighborhood. While this has kept me in a constant state of laughter and general hilarity, Chris does not find it funny in the least. He has been weeding, mulching and planting pretty much non stop since Saturday.

As payback? I am so going to be the drunkard dancing on the tables at the ladies’ Christmas social. That should really set the tongues wagging.

Day One

I snuggled Griffin a little longer this morning, gave him extra kisses and love, but it still did not diminish the guilt I felt at leaving my sweet little baby today. His eyes seemed sad, as if he sensed something was up, but it could just be my projection of maternal guilt.

I cried in the driveway, cried in the car, cried in the bathroom and cried in my office. I also cried while pumping - breast milk mixed with some tears.

I made it through my first meeting of the day. The meeting was supposed to last all of forty five minutes, but went for two hours. It was at one hour, fifty minutes that I remembered I forgot to wear breast pads. I spent the next ten minutes of the meeting sneaking glances at my own chest to ensure that breast milk wasn't leaking all over my shirt. At the first sign the meeting was adjourned, I ran out of the conference room, arms crossed tightly across my chest, seeking the safety of my office and breast pump.

Mid pump and cry fest, I realized I forgot ice packs for my pump cooler. Sigh. Now what? Well, I am storing my breast milk in the fridge for my practice group. How's that for family friendly policies, huh? Let's hope no one mistakes the milk for a refreshing mid-day drink.

I miss my baby. But I know I need to work, both for my sanity and my family's financial survival. This does not make me less sad. This does not make me feel less guilty. I guess it is all part of being a working mom.

P.S. Yes, I do have two other children, but while I love them both dearly, they had no idea that there was anything special or out of the ordinary about today. It was a school day, just like any other school day for most of their lives. The only difference from the last five or six months? I came downstairs all dressed in my professional working clothes instead of my regular morning attire of stained, pilling flannel pjs. Aidan even took a break from watching "HigglyTown Heroes" to comment on how much he "loved" my pearls.

Last Day

Today is my last day of maternity leave. I don't want to leave Griffin tomorrow. I want to go back to work. How is it possible to feel such conflicting emotions at once?

DENTIST FROM HELL PART TWO: The Aftermath

Aidan peers at me over his cereal bowl, "Mom, why did the Mad Dentist have such a big mask on?"

Me: "Mad dentist, who?"

Aidan: "You know, Mom - the Mad Dentist from the bad dentist's place?"

Me: Thinking to myself, oh, shit - this will just never die, will it? Then in my understanding mommy voice, "Oh, that dentist."

Aidan: "Why did he have such a big mask on?"

Me: Trying to come up with a safe, nice, puppies and rainbows type of answer, but after only two sips of coffee and a brain muddled with sleep deprivation, I can only come up with : "Um, hmmm, well..."

Aidan jumps into the silence with a thoughtful: "Is it because of the blood mom? I bet Mad Dentist wears the big face mask because of all the blood."

Brennan chimes in : "I hate the dentis! I no wanna go to the dentis!"

I hang my head and know that when my children's teeth rot and fall out because of their staunch refusal to ever go to a dentist again, I will deliver those teeth right to the doorstep of that damn "Mad Dentist".

DENTIST FROM HELL

No one likes to go to the dentist. Hell, I HATE to go to the dentist. And even more than I hate going to the dentist, I feared taking my children to the dentist for the first time. I knew it was a requirement of parenthood, but I dreaded it just the same. (This is somewhat apparent given that Aidan is four and well, (sigh) he had not yet been to the dentist. I know, I know - I am hanging my motherly head in abject shame. SHAME ON ME. Bad mother, bad!)

So today, both Aidan and Brennan had appointments at the dentist. I made appointments at a regular dentist who assured me they also performed pediatric dentistry services. I thought this would work fine. Who needs a pediatric dentist's office? Heh. Rookie mom move. You do really need a pediatric dentist or at least an office that doesn't have their collective head up their giant ass.

We arrive and wait twenty minutes in the beautifully appointed waiting room with antique furniture. Toys? Nada. Reading materials? Sure - some lovely, fancy schmancy coffee table books including one on the history of James Bond. (I have no idea either.)

We are finally ushered into the back of the office. But, instead of bringing us right to our dental "cubicle", the hygienist would like to give us a tour of the office. Um, okay? I didn't know what to say or do in response to this. So, off we went - me, a scared shitless two year old, a pretty nervous four year old and an infant carrier with infant that weighed about ninety pounds or so. The first part of the tour? We got to watch an actual procedure being performed by a dentist. A real life actual procedure - needles and all. BIG needle. BIG HUGE NEEDLE being inserted into a patient's gums. And now both children are clutching my legs in terror as we continue onto the tour. I am not even sure how I managed to walk - with Aidan on one side holding onto my leg, Brennan grabbing my other leg and me maneuvering the infant carrier. But, there's more! We stop the tour so the hygienist can take five minutes to drone on about the wonders of Zoom Teeth Whitening treatments. The kids look like they are about to completely melt down and this woman is trying to sell me teeth whitening. I wanted to haul off and smack her. Really. There should be a special place in hell for people like this. If not hell, then at least purgatory.

Finally, we make it to our dental cubby. The hygienist points out the chair in the center of the cubby and tells Aidan to hop on up into the chair so they can get to work. Then she turns to me and tells me that I have to wait outside of the cubby. Aidan's head snapped so fast to look at me that I honestly thought it was going to come off of his body. I was honestly speechless. He's FOUR. FOUR!!!!! NEVER BEEN TO A DENTIST. Are you serious? Truly? She was. She honestly believed that he was going to just hop into the chair and happily have his teeth inspected by complete strangers. Hee, funny lady.

I told her that I was going to stand by Aidan during the treatments. The hygienist then told me it was "some sort of state law or something." But she "wasn't sure, 'cause she's new." I told her in the politest tone I could manage, that I wasn't going to wait outside of the cubby. She looked nervous and left for reinforcements. The kids took this as a sign to just completely and totally lose it. So they cried hysterically, at full volume, in perfect harmony. It was a miracle of miracles that Griffin did not join them.

A neighboring dentist took pity on me and decided to help me comfort my children. Only he forgot to take off his face mask. My children are already screaming in fear and confusion when a tall, strange man with a large face mask leans down to try and talk to them. He looked like something out of a horror movie. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry right along with them.

Then another dentist joins us. Wait - she's our dentist! She tells me that she can not allow me to stay in the cubby with the kids because it is "her rule" and "sometimes mothers can be part of the problem." Oh, yes she did. I gave her a smile and asked her if she had children. She said no. I smiled at her again and said, "I didn't think so." And then we left.

My anger and frustration at that dental office can not be adequately expressed. Aidan can't stop talking about the needles. Brennan keeps muttering to me, "Momma, I hate the dentis! Hate the dentis!" Great. If I thought the dentist was going to be hard before this all happened, now I have my work cut out for me.

I took them out for ice cream to dull all of our pain. What's a few more sugar induced cavities, right?

Mmmmmm.. cheesecake!

I had lunch today at the Cheesecake Factory. I have to say, I am not a fan of chain restaurants and will avoid them like the plague. This is easy to do in Buffalo with our wide variety of damn good dining options. But today, I hit our brand spankin' new Cheesecake Factory because well, it's cheesecake people. Cheesecake! How can that possibly be a bad thing, right? Cheesecake! (I like to say it about as much as I like to eat it.)

And speaking of chain restaurants and cheese, come to find out that Buffalo is also getting their very own Melting Pot. Cheese! Because how can melted cheese be a bad thing? And melted chocolate? Oh, the possibilities are endless.

The chains are discovering Buffalo. And my very favorite chain set to be open here this week? SEPHORA! It opens Friday and I am in love. I literally had my nose pressed up against the glass of the closed store today. I could see Philosophy and my Amazing Grace! I could see pretty little brushes and tubes of goop!

I literally barely wear make up and I am more excited for this store than I should be. I just may come out of the store all foundationed and fake eyelashed to the hilt. And then I'll go eat Cheesecake! Or Melted Cheese! Hmmmm, what did I say about hating chains again?

I'm Fine

I thought I was fine about going back to work. I like my job. I love my part time schedule - three days a week is perfect for me. I love the people I work with at my job - both my clients and colleagues. I like doing something for me. So, I'm fine.

My best friend Diane called me today to see if I was concerned about going back to work in one week. Are you feeling okay?, she asked. I'm fine, I assured her. I like to work. I need to work and so, I'm fine.

My mom called today, upset, because she will be overseas when I go back to work next Tuesday, and therefore, unable to call to make sure I am okay. I'll be fine, I told her. Fine. I love my schedule and my job. Griffin will be okay. I'll be fine.

My friend Christine asked me to go to lunch tomorrow to celebrate my last days of leave and cheer me on to work. More concern, but I knew, I'd be fine. I have gone through this twice before, with Aidan and then Brennan. I'm a pro. I'll be fine.

I felt fine as I got dinner ready tonight. Griffin was in his exersaucer chomping on a toy with his shiny new teeth. I was singing along to my ipod as I tossed a salad. I looked over at Griffin and saw his eyes follow me. They followed me to the fridge and back again. They smiled as I sang. They continued to watch me, reassured that I was close to him. And then, just like that, I wasn't fine at all. An ache bubbled up inside of me. Tears welled up in my eyes and I cried. I picked Griffin up and held him close to me. I sang more softly and slow danced with him. My heart broke a little. I guess I am not fine. Not fine at all.

The Countdown...

In one week, I head back to work. One week. Today and tomorrow are my last days alone with Griffin. After that, he becomes one of the "pack."

Where did six months go?

One week. One sad, sad week.

You Go Al!

Al Gore has convinced me we need to start recycling and use those cute little reusable shopping bags my beloved Wegmans has offered.

Thanks to my wonderful friend Christine, I had the chance to see Al Gore speak last night at the University of Buffalo. It was informative, interesting and funny (!). Yeah, he's funny too. Who knew?

If only we could turn back time. But I won't get into that right now.

Toothless No More

Griffin has teeth. TWO TEETH. They popped up sometime between last night and this morning. This may explain the crying fits and the two hours of sleep we all collectively enjoyed last night. Teeth. My baby, my last little baby has teeth.

EDITED TO ADD: Yeah, I am already done with the sweet nostalgia from Griffin's two little teeth. He has already bit me once and those little vampire baby teeth hurt to high heaven (or hell.) I am going to threaten him with immediate weaning if he doesn't keep his fangs to himself.

We are Back

We are tan, happy, and back from our week long jaunt to Florida. It was spectacular. We soaked up as much sunshine and outdoor time as we could possible squeeze into one week. Our first morning, Aidan was up at the crack of dawn, dressed himself in his swimsuit and asked to go down to the beach at 7 a.m. We managed to hold the boys off until 8:30 am. But once at the beach, the boys were like wild animals escaped from their cages. They simply ran and ran some more until they collapsed into a sand pile with a shovel to dig. It was the theme of the vacation. Run, jump and dig. For preschoolers, that may be the perfect vacation.

Aidan and Brennan both declared they never wanted to go home. The first time we got them back into the car to go out to dinner, Brennan erupted with tears and wailing.

"I don't wanna go home, " He yelled with tears in his eyes, "I stay at the beach." While we assured him we still had plenty of time left on our vacation, he remained on edge anytime we had to get in the car to go anywhere. He was convinced we would sneak him back to Buffalo and cold, cold snow.

We enjoyed the sun, but we also enjoyed the chance to spend time with my grandparents. Chris and I get such a kick out of my nana and grandpa. They are their very own 'Stan and Ethel' variety show come to life. Some of my favorite grandparent exchanges:

My grandmother put together a pile of papers and old magazines to take to the recycling bin in their building. She left and returned a short time later, carrying a pile of new magazines and papers. I assumed she had picked up her mail on her way back to their condo. My grandmother settled in to read one of the newspapers in the chair next to me. My grandfather walks into the room, eyes the paper she is currently reading and asks in a teasing voice, "Jennie, did you pay for that newspaper?" My grandmother looks guilty and hides behind the paper. We come to find out that my grandmother likes to shop the recycle bin for new reading materials. Heh.

Another favorite: I was a little stressed our first night in Florida because the boys would not settle down to sleep. It was way beyond their normal bedtime, and they still stubbornly refused to drift off. My grandfather saw I was stressed and told me to let it go.

I replied: "But they're going to be unbearably cranky tomorrow."

He laughed and said, "Then let them be cranky."

I gave him wide eyes and said with exasperation, "But this is my vacation and I don't want to deal with cranky kids."

He laughed, shook his head and said, "Honey, you're not on vacation. The kids are on vacation. You are not on vacation. You want to know who is on vacation? Your grandmother and I are on vacation." Funny and a wise man too.

Griffin also enjoyed his first trip to both the pool and beach. He survived having his toes put into the somewhat cold Gulf of Mexico, but seemed a little astonished by the bright Florida sun. (That's what happens when you are born in December in Buffalo!)

All in all - a good time was had and memories were made.

P.S. I also must express my absolute devotion, adoration and just plain love for JetBlue. If I could, I would fly JetBlue with my children everywhere. We sat down in our seats, the boys popped on their headphones and sat QUIETLY while they watched Dora and Diego on their individual tvs. JetBlue, I truly love you. And our fellow passengers who eyed us with suspicion upon seeing that we were traveling with three children four and under, well, they love you too.

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.