Let's Go to the Zoo

The boys and I headed to the zoo yesterday. After all was said and done, our group consisted of like ten or eleven kiddies. The adults were hopelessly outnumbered, but we managed to maintain some sense of chaotic order.

As I put the boys to bed last night, I asked Aidan and Brennan to describe their favorite part of the zoo visit.

Aidan liked the sea lion exhibit. As we stood on the bridge overlooking the sea lion stream, a sea lion burst to the surface and sprayed water directly at Aidan. It was a show stopper.

Brennan thought about my question and after a minute or two of silence said, "I liked the dinosaurs the best."

Me: "Dinosaurs? Brennan, we didn't see any dinosaurs."

Brennan: "Really?" He looks at me with surprise, gazes off into space with contemplation, and says "Huh."

After another minute of silence, he looks back at me, smiles and says, "Then I guess I liked the elephants."

Okay. There are times I wished I could see inside Brennan's world. I have a feeling alot goes on there that we don't know about.

P.S. Happy Birthday to me. I am 23. Really. I swear. 23! Uh huh. Sigh. For my birthday dinner tonight, I picked pizza and chocolate cake. Yes, I really should be saying I am turning ten.

Rock Star!

Griffin rocks the mohawk thanks to the efforts of his ever attentive and creative cousins Nicole and Liam. The peas were good too.

Movie Night!

Since, my birthday falls on a school night, Chris and I celebrated the occasion last night with, my favorite date night activity, dinner and a movie. We saw the Bourne movie and I loved it. I do, however, have just a few comments for my fellow moviegoers. Ahem, here goes:

To the teenagers who stomped up and down the stairs of the theater during the movie while loudly talking on their cell phones: I wanted to clap when the movie usher finally escorted you out of the movie theater, but I held back because I figured it would just give you all the attention you secretly craved with your antics.

To the woman behind me who LOVED to share tidbits about what was bound to happen NEXT in the plotline: Thanks from all of us in aisle 12 of the theater. You are so wicked smart and you just caught stuff we never saw coming. Nevah! You little genius you. And now we all know. You're smart. Sooo very smart. And boy, does your annoying little voice carry, doesn't it?

To the woman who sat smack dab next to me in the theater: I am just so very happy that you loved the hell out of your king size slurpie throughout the whole damn movie. SO VERRRRY HAPPY. I mean, really, you just extracted every last bit of liquid out of that slushie, didn't you? The slurping, the never ending shaking of the cup back and forth, the sliding of the staw in and out - you just worked that slurpie for every ounce of its magical goodness. I think you made sure there wasn't a drop left in the cup. Particularly when you opted to forgo the straw and opened up the top of the cup to shake the last dregs of slush into your open mouth. Can you just say Yum? Yeah, that pretty much turned me off slurpies for life. So, thanks.

I feel much better now.

All Romance, All the Time

We celebrated the big Ten Year with an adult night out on Thursday evening. Dinner was wonderful. (Love that La Tee Da!) After dinner, we came home to the kiddies already in bed sound asleep. Ahhhh, the quiet of the beautiful summer evening and the sweet buzz of many glasses of wine - led me to believe love and romance was in the air.

And maybe it was. It could have been. But first, we had to uncover the mystery of what, exactly, one of our lovely children shoved down the toilet in the master bath. Mmmmm, nothing gets a woman in the mood more than watching her hottie husband work the plunger. Oh baby, hot, so hot. And just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, Chris brought out the fancy 'snake' plunger/plumbing thingamajig because the ordinary plunger couldn't quite get the job done. Now that's a man who knows how to woo his woman, I'll tell ya.

All romance, all the time in our house. After ten years, we still got it baby.

The Anniversary

Ten Years of wedded bliss! And I wouldn't change a moment.

Sick Day

I got the dreaded call of any working mother today. School called to say Aidan is sick. I left work in a frenzy after gathering together a pile of things to do at home. I hated knowing Aidan wasn't feeling well and he was anywhere but home with me.

In the car on the ride home, Aidan told me he was sad at school because he wasn't feeling well. He went on to say, "I was so sad, Mom that I asked my teacher if I could see Brennan to make me feel better while I waited for you."

Me: (my heart breaking a bit) "Did you go see Brennan in his classroom?"

Aidan: "I did. I watched him from the window at his classroom door. He was sitting at a table playing."

Me: "Did you talk to Brennan?"

Aidan: "No, I didn't want him to get sad because I was sad. I felt better just because I saw him."

Just because he saw him.

There are so many things I love about being a parent. One of the greatest gifts is to watch my children love each other.

Old = Death

I turn 35 next week. It feels old to me. 35 is practically 40. This means all those oil of olay commercials really are marketing to me. (and it works! I have oiled of olayed my skin to death this week in prep for the upcoming birthday. Because, you know, my skin really knows to sprout wrinkles as a way of saying happy birthday to me.)

Anyway, I have a point and a child related anecdote for all this, of course. So, Aidan was asking me about my birthday as I put him to bed last night.

Aidan: "How old are you going to be Mom?"

Me: Big dramatic sigh, "I am going to be very, very old Aidan."

Aidan looks at me with concern in his eyes and asks "You are?" A pause. And then, "Are you going to die?"

Well, that will teach me to be self indulgent with my complaints of age and birthdays won't it?

And He's Off...

It isn't enough that Griffin has discovered he can stand up in his crib. No, it surely isn't enough. He wants to make sure we all know he really, really, REALLY can get himself up and about on anything and everything in the house. I think he is slowly trying to drive me insane.

He can climb up to grab onto the kitchen chairs. He has also figured out how to cruise right along each chair. A great, death defying feat done with pure confidence and excitement. Never mind that ceramic tile floor threatening him from below. Concussion, what concussion?


And just for kicks, Griffin has figured out how to climb up onto and stand on his brother's furniture. I nearly screamed in abject horror the first time he showed me this little trick.


But, all in all, I am sure Griffin thinks his new skills are the bomb. He gets to freak his parents out, thrill his older brothers with his antics and net new toys previously hidden in the basement. What's not to love?

Overheard

I overheard a conversation between Aidan and Brennan this morning as they pretended to battle to the death with light sabres.

Aidan: "Remember, Brennan - the force is inside of you. It is inside of us all."

Brennan: "Okay Aidan. I have the force."

Aidan: "May the Force Be With You."

Someone, please help me.

Remember

Things I want to remember from today:

(1) Before Nap: After a morning of swimming with the boys, I am lost in a flurry of clothes changes, bottles, sippy cups and other necessary pre nap prep. After ten minutes, I announce to the boys it's time to head upstairs for nap. It is at that point, I realize I have two children with me instead of three. We can't find Brennan. After a few moments of searching the downstairs for him, we head upstairs.

I find my sweet two year old little boy already cuddled up in his bed. He is snuggled under his blanket with his binky and he looks as if he is just about to drift off into dreamland.

Brennan gives me a tired little smile and says, "I'm sleepy Momma."

"I know honey." I lean down to give him a hug and a kiss and whisper "Go to sleep baby, I love you."

"Me love you too Momma." Brennan's eyes drift shut as I close his door. My sweet, darling little boy.

(2) After Nap: My other sweet darling little baby turns eight months tomorrow. He celebrated by greeting me standing in his crib when I fetched him from his afternoon nap. The lil' stinker.

May the Force Be With You

Last night, I bent down to give Aidan one last, go to bed, sleep tight hug and he asked seriously, “Mom, Can I ask you something?”

Me: “Love, you can ask me anything. Anything at all.” I brushed his hair back off his forehead and gave him an expectant smile.

He gave me a hesitant smile back, took a deep breath and asked, “In Star Wars, why do C3PO and R2D2 have to flee from Princess Leia’s spaceship?”

Sigh. Really. This is the hesitant, soul searching, quiet smile question to end our day? Where’s the after school special moment I was expecting? Where’s the bonding? Where’s the love? Damn that Star Wars.

I should have expected this after Saturday. I took Aidan to his classmates birthday party. We got in the car and I was excited to have a little one on one time with him. As we pull out of the driveway, he says to me: “I have an idea Mom. Let’s play a game where we each take turns and name each Star Wars character. Okay? You start.”

Grrr, sure, I’ll start. Mommy would LOOOOOOVE to pass the time naming each and every character related to Star Wars. I can’t imagine a better way to pass the time. Let’s just say that five minute ride to the birthday party felt like an hour. There has to be an end to this Star Wars obsession. HAS TO. But until then, May the Force Be With You. Amen.

Anatomy 101: Again!

Brennan snuck up on me while I was changing out of my clothes after work. He gazed at me with shock, pointed at my nether region and asked, "Momma, where's your penis?"

I tried to casually clothe myself without revealing the panic I felt at having to teach my child anatomy while I was bare assed naked.

Me (after I coughed and cleared my throat several times): "Well, B., ah, see, well, um, mommies don't actually have penises." (Penises? Peni? I have no idea - and no way am I googling it to figure it out.)

Brennan: "No?" He stands staring at me in disbelief. "Whatch you got then?"

Me: (sighing) "Mommies have vaginas."

Brennan: "Yeah?"

Me: "Yes. "

Brennan: "Not me. I have a penis. Like Daddy."

Me: "Yes. Daddies have penises. Mommies have vaginas."

Brennan: "I like my penis."

Me: "That's good Brennan."

Wordlessly, Brennan shakes his head back and forth. After a beat, he turns to leave the room and says, "I no like 'ginas momma."

Well, alrighty then.

Evolution of a Soccer Mom

When I woke Brennan up this morning, he sat up, gave me a happy, sleep smile and said, “it’s a mommy day today?” The boys call my days off ‘Mommy Days.” The days I get all three of them to myself.

My heart hurt a little when I broke it to Brennan that it’s Tuesday, so today isn’t a Mommy Day. Tuesdays are school days. Aidan walked into Brennan’s room and told him, “It’s okay, because just two days past yesterday and it’s a Mommy Day again.” Yes, my boy may be a math genius.

We enjoyed our Mommy Day yesterday. We swam the morning away. After naps, Aidan, Brennan and I headed out to soccer, while Griffin stayed home with Grandma JoJo. I was the stand in for Chris at soccer while he attended a golf tournament. It was my first soccer practice with Aidan, but I thought I did okay. I kicked. I dribbled. I became a Soccer Mom.

When we got home, Chris had already arrived and asked Aidan how it went at practice. Aidan declared that I did fine, but I’m not as good as Daddy. Apparently, Daddy runs a lot more and is a much better goalie. Whatever. I took them out for ice cream after so that should totally give me extra points in the great game of parenting. (My own desire for some chocolate peanut butter ice cream delectable goodness had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. It was purely for my children and their own enjoyment. I swear. Uh Huh. Mmmm, peanut butter.)

Saturday in the Park

After a fun filled afternoon with Aidan at yet another pre-Ker's birthday party (pirate theme! buried treasure! million dollar home! gigantic private playground - bigger than the one at the public park we go to! putting green! inground pool! pool house! gigantic water slide! and personalized m&ms to cap it all off! Have I mentioned how much I hate kiddie birthday parties?), Chris and I took our kiddies to Canal Park.

We dined on lots of fun food at Mississippi Mudds with drippy ice creams for dessert. We walked along the banks of the Niagara River and watched the boys go wild over the boats, ducks, and water. It was a perfect summer afternoon.

So perfect that none of us wanted to go home, even the adults. We missed the sweet spot of early evening contentment and found ourselves smack dab in the danger zone of missed bedtimes. By the time we headed home it was well past Griffin's 7 pm bedtime and he was enthusiastically howling in protest. Aidan and Brennan started in on each other, griping about space and foot placement and ownership of a variety of star wars guys. Finally, in frustration, I turned around and yelled,

"That's it! Stop the yelling and fighting RIGHT NOW or I will have your father STOP this car and make you all get out. Do you understand?" Two heads bobbed in unison as they stared back at me with wide freaked out eyes.

When I turned around, Chris's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter. He glanced at me and was laughing too hard to speak. I started laughing so hard tears streamed down my face. I turned and whispered to him, "Did I just threaten to abandon our children on the highway?" He nodded and we both laughed harder.

At least the kiddies were quiet, imagining a life walking on the I-90 trying to find home after their loony mother forced them out of the family SUV. A year of therapy for that one at least.

So Very Nice

Aidan got a call this morning for another hand modeling gig at Fisher-Price. I was tempted to turn it down, but he really enjoys it. He thinks it is his job. And instead of a paycheck, he gets money to buy toys. It's a win/win from the perspective of a four year old.

On the way to the photo shoot, he asked if we could spend some of his hard earned Fisher-Price bucks at the toy store today. I said sure. He smiled and said, "I'm going to pick out a toy, Mom and I'm going to buy Brennan one too."

Brennan laughed and said, "Really Aidan? That's so very nice of you Aidan."

Aidan responded, "I know it is."

When the photos were done, the boys did their shopping. We also got to see Aidan's first hand shots in action. If you ever happen to see the Cars line of Shake n' Go cars - take a close peek at the box. The inset shots are all of Aidan's hands. He was so proud I thought he was going to burst. We bought two so he could save the packages. He's hand famous! Other kids may get their faces on boxes of toys, my boy gets to show off his hands. Life is funny.

The Mommy Bag

This morning I couldn't find my security id card to get into my building for work. I feverishly tore apart my purse to find it. I found a pacifer, the rules for the Star Wars Lego X Box game, the rules for some snowboarding X Box game, a Star Wars comic book, a handful of stale, icky goldfish crackers, a yellow power ranger, a buzz lightyear figurine, a green army guy, a teething biscuit, four legos and a juice box. A JUICE BOX. Damn I need to clean out my purse more often.

Security card? I have no idea. But if you want to study up on the rules for some X Box games, eat some stale goldfish and enjoy a juicy juice while you play with buzz lightyear - I am so your gal.

Body and Soul

My morning reading brought me this:

http://www.joyunexpected.com/archives/002224.php

which then led me to this article:

http://blogher.org/perfect-girls-starving-daughters

And, wow. Two thirds of women polled between the ages of 18-25 would rather be mean or stupid than be fat. Rather be mean or stupid than be fat.

I have never been thin. I think I escaped from the womb a little on the bigger side and it just continued throughout my life. I had my moments growing up when well meaning friends or family would caution me to just “cut back a little” or to try out some new diet or pill to bring me on the thinner side to normal, but all in all I never felt fat. I never felt ostracized for my size. Instead, I was proud of my accomplishments and my successes. I was a cheerleader. I had one of the lead roles in the high school musical my senior year. I liked being smart and getting good grades. I learned to celebrate who I was, rather than dwell on my body type. It may have been a part of me, but it was never all of me.

A close friend of mine in graduate school had an eating disorder. She was an attractive, successful, smart girl, but she suffered over her body image. If anything, she had an amazing figure and I marveled at her insecurity at her size 8 frame. I thought she was beautiful. Meanwhile, I was content to live in a size 14. She, in turn, was always surprised by my comfort and confidence in myself, in my own skin. When she asked me once where it came from, I was stumped. I didn’t know.

I know of so many women who spend time moving from one diet to another, searching for that magic cure to their body problems. Starvation to Atkins to diet pills. Anything, everything to be thin. But do they ever reach a point when they are finally happy with what looks back at them in the mirror? Or is it just an ever revolving door of self deprivation and self hatred? Is it ever going to be good enough? And what is good enough? Good enough for me or for someone else’s standards? Who gets to say when?

One of my favorite books is Jennifer Weiner’s Good in Bed. The heroine struggles with her size 16 figure and her own body image. She endures diet after diet, but in the end, at her thinnest, she is also at her most unhappiest. She comes to realize that her happiness was not dependent upon her size, but upon her soul. She learns to appreciate her body for its strength and resilience, rather than on the size of her dress.

I have my moments when I wished I had a different body. I wish I was taller. I wish I had long, luscious legs. I wish my ass would just give birth already and stop looking so pregnant. I wish I could get rid of that pregnancy pouch that bears witness to my three pregnancies. But my body, my figure, my size has not affected my ability to live my life with happiness, with joy. I am able to do all that I want to do and accomplish. I may not look like a supermodel (even one of those so called “plus sized” supermodels), but I like me. I feel attractive. My clothes fit and that makes me happy.

Am I thin? No. But I’d much rather be smart and nice than fit into a size 6. Size 16 looks pretty good to me.

The Loose Tooth

Aidan’s front tooth is loose. I wish I could handle this stuff with a shrug and carefree attitude, but instead it is just one more signal to me that he is no longer my little baby, but a boy. So, I did what I always do in these type of situations. I cried. I also may have asked him if we could have a few minutes of hugs and cuddles while I worked the whole thing out in my head (and heart).

Yes, yes, I know. Many years of therapy await my children. I just can’t help myself. And yeah, I know the tooth has not actually fallen out yet. It’s only loose. I get it. Still didn’t stop the tears. And finally, yes I do hereby acknowledge I need help. Lots of help, probably of the professional kind.

But really - a loose tooth. He's all grown up! (tears.)

Welcome Monday

Whew. I'm tired. Exhausted, really. We survived a whirlwind of social activities crammed into two days.

Friday was my girls' night out. Dinner at La Tee Da on Allen. I wanted to hate this place after the nightmare that is their reservation system. But, like most of Buffalo, I loved it.

We spent Saturday grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning and preparing for the big ol' christening. I managed to grab a quick shower and make myself somewhat presentable to head off to our dear friends Carolyn and Mike's annual Rum Party and fancy drink extravaganza. (Sidenote - really loved the rum lemonade and pomegranate daiquiri!)

Sunday was the christening. I spent most of the morning in a frenzied "what the hell was I thinking inviting forty people to my house" state. I was a bit grumpy.

Of course, the only time the church does christenings are smack dab during my children's nap time, so I knew we were on borrowed time from the moment we entered the church. Unfortunately, out of all of the christenings I have ever attended, our priest set a record for LONGEST ceremony ever. EVER. He discussed the historical significance of each and every part of the service. He gave us his own personal history for each and every part of the ceremony. He also wanted pictures with the christened babies after they were christened. From start to finish, we were in the church for almost an hour and a half.

My personal highlights? Aidan yelling out during the service, "Hey - where's Jesus?" Brennan constantly repeating, "I'm hungry" "I am so very hungry." And when the part of the service where they light the candle to bless the baby came, Brennan perked up and joyfully said, "A candle! Is there cake?"

While Griffin didn't really cry during the ceremony, he did screech and giggle, earning us quite a few pointed looks from the priest. Of course (OF COURSE!) there was another baby also being christened at the same time, who did not say a word during the whole ceremony. Not a peep. This baby was also appropriately dressed in the standard christening outfit - long white dress thing. I hate those damn white dresses. I put Griffin in cream pants and a sweater vest. It also earned me a pointed comment from the priest.

But, we survived. He's christened! We also enjoyed the time with family. My brothers and sister in law made sainted status by driving home from NYC just for the christening. 14 hours of driving for a 24 hour visit. Saints.

And thankfully, our next weekend is absolutely free of commitments. I will sleep and relax and may never get out of my pajamas. EVER. First, I must survive this week. Hmmm, I wonder if I can figure out the recipe to the rum lemonade pomegranate drink to ease my pain?

Losing My Religion

We scheduled Griffin’s christening for Sunday. It’s a little past the time when most Catholic families get it done, but with each child we seem to push it a little later and later.

I struggle a lot with the whole religion thing. Chris and I were both raised Catholic, attended Catholic school and married in a Catholic church. Our children are (or will be) baptized Catholic and will, most likely, attend Catholic school. But, yet, I am not sure if I feel Catholic or even subscribe to many of the teachings of Catholicism. Most of what I do for religion, I do because it is expected. We should do it. I am not sure we believe it.

I believe in God. I pray. I thank God every day for the blessings He has given me. But I don’t believe the Catholic Church is tantamount to God. I don’t feel I need Catholicism or its teachings in order to have spirituality and God as a part of my life. In fact, I disagree with many (most) of its teachings. And I shudder at so many of the things perpetuated in the name of religion, including Catholicism.

I will raise my children in the Catholic church because I want to expose them to religion in general. I want them to make their own choices, develop their own beliefs, and find their own religion, be it Catholicism or otherwise. But a small part of me feels like a hypocrite. How do you justify exposing your children to something you don’t yourself believe in? How do you balance the influence of religion with your own distinct spirituality? Can there really be a middle ground?

I want my children to be good people. People who care about the lives and rights of others. People who will treat others with kindness and respect. I’m just not sure how religion fits into all that. Or if it does at all.

Matching Buffalo

As you probably know already, I love Buffalo. And like most Buffalonians, I get both excited and nervous when Buffalo gets any national media attention for anything other than snow or chicken wings. (And let’s not discuss the MTV train wreck that was Fraternity/Sorority Life.) So it was with great trepidation that I watched the new A&E reality show, Confessions of a Matchmaker. The show follows the trials and tribulations of an old school, tell it like she sees it, matchmaker who attempts to find love for some, well – to be kind, quirky singles. And it’s all set in, you guessed it – Buffalo!

The people are a bit odd (and not all of us in Buffalo are odd! I swear!), but they manage to depict a lot of good, fun Buffalo places. In recent episodes, the daters dined at Bacchus, had drinks at Laughlins, flirted at Toro, and shared some tough love over dessert at the Chocolate Bar (Mmmm, can you say turtle cheesecake? I can – and I do often!).

The show is pure reality mind candy fare with a side of Buffalo in the mix. Let’s just keep the chicken wings and snow out of it for once.

Superhuman Daddy

Our coffee pot erupted like a volcano Saturday morning. The coffee bean lava exploded over the entire kitchen and made quite a doozy of a mess. As the boys ate breakfast, Chris was helping me with the clean up. In order to get at the grounds under and behind our fridge, Chris moved the refrigerator.

As he did so, the boys' mouths gaped open in silent awe, eyes wide in shock.

"Wow," Aidan whispered under his breath. "Daddy, you are so strong."

"Yeah, " whispered Brennan.

Four eyes gazed at Chris in absolute adoration. Their Daddy was as strong as Batman or Superman and he was their Daddy! Just theirs.

I didn't have the heart to tell the boys the fridge has wheels. I think Chris wants to keep that a secret too. For just a little while at least.

Free at Last

He has figured it all out. Griffin was once content to explore around him wherever we put him. He could move about the room (our little mad roller), but mostly he stayed put. This was good. This was very good, because we live in a house where it looks as if Toys R Us threw up and toys spewed everywhere.

But now? Griffin has perfected the art of the military crawl and he has also figured out, to his great glee, he can go anywhere he wants. Anywhere. From the family room to the kitchen. From the kitchen to the playroom. You turn your back for just a moment (or two, or three, or well, closer to five) and he has crawled to the back door and found a nice, ol' flip flop to gnaw on. Or he has decided to chew on a kitchen rug. Or (my personal favorite) he has made his way into the bathroom and is playing with Brennan's little potty chair. (Only action that potty chair has seen in QUITE SOME TIME. )

The absolute joy in his eyes as he discovers yet another unknown is beyond adorable. He giggles as he moves or will let loose high pitch shrieks of excitement. He loves his new freedom. Me, not so much. I may need some time to adjust.

The Princess Side of Boys?

Before I had kids, I believed there were not a whole lot of differences between boys and girls. Coming from me, the person who grew up with two of the boy-est, jockiest, guys guys, brothers in the planet – this is pretty funny. I mean, I knew there was the addiction to sports (hello – many years of nothing but football, college football, high school football and ESPN Sports Center on our television in our family room.) I knew they dealt with their frustration differently. (My mom had patched many a hole in our walls after a particularly bad football game loss. Or do not even get me started on the video game tournaments that ended up with the victor gaining the right to fart on the others head.) I knew they had much comfort in their bodies. (My brothers never felt the need to AHEM cover themselves up when my friends came over. My friends found this funny. I spent many years screaming at my brothers to ‘for the love of god, put some CLOTHES on already!') And I knew they had some shall we say, different bathroom manners. (I mean, really, could you either pick up the toilet seat or as least work on your aim, please?)

But yet despite my upbringing with my beloved brothers and all they taught me, I still believed that as young uns, boys and girls played the same, acted the same and were no more different, but for their individual personalities. Heh.

Last night, we celebrated our neighbor's fourth birthday with pizza and cake. She is a sweet, adorable little girl. After devouring the cute Disney Princess cake, attention turned to the opening of the presents. One by one, she opened up her parent’s birthday presents. Disney Princess jacket. Disney Princess shoes. A dress up Ariel wedding dress. A dress up Ariel pink frilly gown. The Disney Princess figurine pack.

During the present opening, neither Aidan or Brennan said one word. Not a peep. Normally, they yell out “wow” or “I want that too!” or “can I play with that?” They stood off to the side, watched the presents as they were opened and looked both confused and bored. The girls were hooting and hollering in their enthusiasm. “The Disney wedding dress?” “NO WAYYYY!” “Can I try it on?” “Can I?” The birthday girl turned to show Aidan the pink dress and he gave a polite smile, a shrug and a look at me that said, “Where in the hell are the real presents?”

After the presents were opened, the girls rushed off to try on the new princess outfits. Aidan and Brennan stood alone amidst a sea of princessness. After a few moments, they started to play with the Disney princess figurines. I smiled and thought, “See, boys can enjoy the girly stuff, even for just a moment.” I walked closer to watch them play.

Apparently, Cinderella had staged an evil coup to take over the empire from Snow White and Belle. Ariel was going to ambush her to make her “dead” before the dwarfs found their secret stash of “guns” and “tried to make them dead.” Then there was much fighting amongst the princesses with Cinderella delivering quite a blow to Snow White, who countered by smashing her in the head with Belle’s foot. Lots of chasing, lots of fighting and whole lot of smashing. It was quite a spin on the traditional Disney princess play.

Sure, boys play just like girls. Yep.

Hockey Lollipop

Something I never thought I'd have to say to my two year old:

"Brennan, please, stop sucking on the hockey stick."

Anatomy 101: The Power Ranger

To endure a day of shopping and errands yesterday morning, I allowed the boys to each pick out one toy from a clearance sale at the Disney Store. Aidan picked a pack of Power Rangers. Brennan picked (yet another) Buzz Lightyear doll. (We have enough Buzzes in our house to start our own little Toy Story.)

On the way home from shopping, Aidan asked: “Mom, why do my power rangers have bumps on their tummies?”

Me: “I don’t know Aidan. They have bumps?”

Aidan: “Yes. Bumps. Two Bumps. Can you look at them?”

Me: “Aidan, Mommy’s driving. Can I look at them when we get home?”

We arrive home. Aidan brings me the power rangers and shows me the bumps by pinching both bumps on the figurines with his fingers.

“See Mom, bumps.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower to not smile, to not grin and to certainly not giggle.

Finally, I manage a response. “Aidan, the bumps are breasts.”

Aidan’s mouth opens in a shocked “o” and gazes at the power rangers in silence.

After a beat he asks, “Sooooo, are these boy power rangers or girl power rangers?”

Me: “I’d say they are girl power rangers.”

Aidan: “Because of the breasts.”

Me: “Yes.”

Aidan glances at the power rangers again and asks, “Because girls have breasts?”

Me: “Yes.”

Who knew that the mere purchase of two power rangers would require a lesson in male and female anatomy? Damn Disney Store and their anatomically accurate figurines.

Rockin' The Hair...

When I walked into Brennan's room this morning and caught a glimpse of his crazy head of morning bedhead, I asked him: "Wow! Brennan, what happened to your hair, buddy?"

Brennan: "I had a party Momma. With my hair. In my room. While I was sleeping."

Me: "Really? Was I invited to the party?"

Brennan: "Nope. Just me. My hair. My friends from school."

Must have been quite a party. I'm glad I wasn't drinking that Kool-Aid:







P.S. There are many firsts I want to remember in my children's lives. Today, we all witnessed a momentous first. Griffin had his very first french fry. Welcome to the beauty of fried food, little one. I know it felt good to gum the hell out of that french fry on your swollen, teething gums. Enjoy being the third child - who gets a french fry before eight months, while your older brothers had to wait forever and ever so I could torture them with nutritious foods. Next month, you may get your own Happy Meal.

The Potty Chronicles: Chapter One

We have finally dusted off Aidan's old Fisher-Price potty and put it in the bathroom for Brennan. Our adorable two year old who has been ready for MONTHS to be potty trained, but was held off by his overwhelmed and lazy parents, has now decided he never wants to be out of diapers.

He doesn't want to go on the potty. He hates the potty. He loves his diapers. Pull Ups suck.

Chris and I have decided to be patient. We will not push him, but take this nighmare called potty training nice and easy. And tonight? A glimmer of hope!

Brennan walked into the bathroom, saw his little potty and said, "Look Daddy, my potty."

Chris: "Yep, that is your potty Brennan. When are you going to use your potty?"

Brennan: "Hmmmm, pretty soon."

The Itch

A sign I may be raising the most codependent children on the planet:

Aidan stretches out his arm towards me and says, "Mom, I have an itch on my arm. Will you scratch it for me?"

It smells like what?

As I tucked Aidan into bed last night, he sniffed at my arm and asked, "Mom, what does your arm smell like?"

I sniffed my arm and paused for a moment to admire the tangy, but sweet lime aroma of my beloved Philosopy Senorita Margarita hot salt scrub.

"Mmmmm," I said as I sniffed again for another lovely lime whiff. "It smells good doesn't it?"

Aidan sniffs my arm again, thinks for a moment and responds, "I don't know. I think it smells like dirt."

Well, I guess that was thirty some dollars well spent.

Happy 4th of July!

Happy 4th and Happy Birthday to my Mom - otherwise known as Grandma JoJo around our house. And a belated very Happy Birthday to my Grandfather, whose birthday was yesterday.

To celebrate JoJo's birthday, some of the women in my family gathered for drinks and dinner last night at Nektar on Elmwood. Plentiful martinis, fantastic food, wonderful ambiance and great company. It was a good night out.

My personal highlights of the evening? When I caught one of my Aunts muttering into her cell phone after a few martinis and many glasses of wine and I asked my cousin who my Aunt was talking to on the phone. Her response? "She's drunk dialing Grandpa." Heh. 'Cause, why not drunk dial Grandpa after you've had a few, right? Or when my other Aunt ordered up a bottle of wine and when the server asked her how many glasses to bring with the bottle, she looked around the table, shrugged and said, "One." Yes, we may have imbibed a bit. Just a bit.

We also had a chance to see some of the carvings displayed throughout the city as part of the fundraising effort to retree Western New York after the "Surprise October Storm of 2006." They are beautiful, intricate, HUGE carvings made from trees destroyed in the "Surprise October Storm of 2006." (Yes, I have to keep referring to the storm in all of its media hyped glory.) It's a fantastic idea and it is great to see the carvings out and about the city.

Our day today is much more low-key. First rain in quite a while. It's nice to have a chance to regroup at home on a holiday.

Get in Mah Belly!

Brennan has always had quite an appetite. From the moment he was born, the boy has loved to eat. He has an enthusiasm about food that is both adorable and infectious.

Over the last few days, his appetite has increased tenfold. He seems to be hungry all day, all the time. His first words to me this morning were, “I’m hungry Momma.” Throughout the day, Brennan, “I’m hungry again Momma.” On Sunday, he ate two bowls of cereal, a yogurt, a bowl of blueberries, two fried eggs and toast – all before 9 a.m. It must be a growth spurt.

Yesterday, Brennan came up to Chris and me and showed us that the heads from the boys’ Star Wars figurines are removable. The little, itty bitty, heads actually come off of the bodies. Brennan demonstrated the removable head to me, gazed at the head in his hand, and said, “It taste good?”

Me: “No Brennan, we don’t eat the heads.”

Brennan: “Yes, I eat the heads. They taste good?”

Me: “Brennan, we do NOT eat the heads. Do you understand? You do NOT eat the heads.”

Brennan looks at me sadly with brown eyes wide with confusion, “I can put all the heads in my mouth, Momma.”

I sigh and look at Chris for reinforcement.

Chris: “Brennan, if you eat the heads, we have to take the toys away. Do you understand?”

Brennan: “Okay Daddy. I’m sorry.” He shuffles away from us, still playing with the heads in his hand.

Chris and I look at each other.

Me: “What are the odds we are picking Star Wars heads out of our children’s poop sometime this week?”

Chris: “I’d say pretty good.”

All is Well that Ends Well

Brennan can walk. It appears after all the melodrama of Friday, he is fine. I chose to find the humor in this situation. (And if I repeat that enough to myself, I just might believe it. Ha!)

Date night for Chris and me last night. We went to a new Mexican place, but I admit all I was looking forward to was the margaritas. Margaritas, margaritas and some more margaritas. It was totally going to be the highlight of my night. After we placed our order, the waitress sadly told us the restaurant was still waiting for their liquor license. No margaritas, she said, but would I care for a soda instead?

No, I wouldn't. I really wouldn't care for a soda instead. Do I need to revisit the week I just had? Do you know how rarely I get to leave the house without children and with the promise of an adult beverage? The disappointment on my face must have been pretty intense, because both the waitress and my hubbie asked if I wanted to go elsewhere. Sigh, but we stayed, sans margaritas and all.

We managed to sneak in a drink after dinner, but before the movie. (Yes, I clearly have a problem.)

And movie too! Hello Brad and George - thank you for agreeing to come along on my date with my husband. Oceans 13 was cute, but the eye candy was way cuter. Hmmm, now if I could just get the movie theater to serve me margaritas along with my eye candy.

TGIF... or not

It's Friday! Fridays to me mean time to catch up with my adorable little cherubs after three long days of work. We usually play the morning away, or if we are feeling particularly ambitious, get ourselves to the pool. But, today, life had other plans in mind.

When I got home from work last night, Brennan was up on the couch in the playroom and refused to walk. He insisted his foot hurt and he wanted to be carried everywhere. We thought he had stubbed his toe and decided to wait it out until morning. Well, this morning, he collapsed in pain when he tried to take a few steps. Brennan collapsing and crying in pain?! Brennan is the kid that takes a blow to the head and then insists with his arms wide that he is okay. He is constantly bruised and bloodied from something or other, but he never really complains about it. So when he complains about something, we listen. We really listen.

We were at the doctor by 8:30 a.m. The doctor felt we needed x-rays. Brennan and I were off to the hospital for X-rays, while I feverishly tried to patch together childcare at home for Aidan and Griffin. Up until this point, Brennan handled the doctor, the probing and the unfamiliar like a champ. But, the x-rays sucked the big one.

After waiting for forty five minutes, the x-ray techs brought us into the x-ray room. One of the techs said she thought it would be better if I did not go in with Brennan. I told her that he would most likely become hysterical and that once he starts, he is difficult, if not impossible to calm down. Her reply? "We don't care if he cries as long as we get the pictures we need."

Oh. Well, that made me feel better about handing you my two year old. We went into the room and even with me next to him, Brennan just completely lost it. Screaming, flailing, crying - just general hysteria. He wouldn't lie on the table. He just kept twisting and turning to get to me as he screamed louder and louder. The tech turned to me and asked me to leave. I told her no. After a few more minutes, she snapped at me, "he will stop if you just get out of here."

So I left the room. I left my sweet little baby - a boy Chris and I call "pure joy" alone in a room with complete strangers when he was scared and helpless. I left him as he cried louder and louder. I left him.

I stood outside the exam room door for what felt like an eternity. Tears streamed down my face as I listened to him scream for me. "I wannnnnt my mommy," he cried, "please give me my mommy." "I need my mommy." And then he started to beg and hiccup, "Please I need to hug my mommy." It was endless and did not stop. The crying, the begging, the hysterics got louder and louder, until finally the x-rays were done.

When the tech opened the door, I grabbed Brennan and sat down with him in my arms. We rocked back and forth and both of us just cried. Brennan couldn't catch his breath and only started to giggle when he saw how hard I was crying right along with him. I whispered how much I loved him, how sorry I was, and how proud I was of him. I couldn't let him go.

After Brennan was dressed, the tech came back to us and apologized to me. She said she never should have said that they did not "care" if he cries. She also apologized because they thought he would calm down once I left, "but he didn't, " she said, "he just got worse." I appreciated her apology, but it also made me feel worse. It made me feel more guilty. Because instead of listening to a complete stranger, perhaps I should have trusted myself, my knowledge of my child and been more patient with him in an unfamiliar situation. I should have given him more time to adjust. If I had, he wouldn't have had to go through that alone, with me on the other side of a closed door.

We had to wait for the results of the x-rays back in the reception area. By this time, Brennan had already forgot about the whole thing. He was back to "pure joy", happy to play and cuddle with his Mom. I, however, could not stop the silent tears that still crept up on me from time and time again as I hugged him. I still could hear him screaming and crying for me.

The kicker? His x-rays are fine. He didn't break anything, but he still won't put weight on his foot.

On the drive home, I noticed nail marks on my upper arm. While I waited outside the exam room for Brennan, I had dug my nails so far into my arm that I left marks and bruises.

This was just an x-ray. A simple, silly x-ray.

All in the Family

Aidan’s folder at school was chock full of drawings, paintings and all sorts of goodies due to an end of the year clean up by his teachers. We looked through his drawings together last night. As we went through them, I realized almost every drawing depicted Aidan with his Daddy. Even the captions were all Daddy, all the time:

“Love Is… When My Daddy Gives Me Hugs.”

“I Giggle When… My Daddy Tickles Me.”

“My Daddy Pushes Me on the Swing.”

Um, Hello – where’s the mom in the equation? I teased Aidan just a little bit and asked if I got to be in any of his drawings. He patted my shoulder and said seriously, “Don’t worry Mom, you are always in my family pictures.”

Gee, thanks. 33 Hours of labor and all I get is an inclusion in the family drawings.

In other news, my quest for the most graceful woman on the planet continued yesterday. As I walked to the mailbox to fetch the mail after work, I fell face first while I carried Griffin. I managed to break my fall with my knees and keep Griffin upright and unharmed. I am sure I was quite the picture of beauty and grace as I was sprawled in the driveway, my skirt up over my head, my spanx on full on display for the neighborhood, and my legs bloodied and raw.

When Chris got home, he expressed some horror over the state of my legs and then asked, “Oh, And where’s the mail?” Grrr…. No I didn’t actually make it to the mailbox to retrieve the mail.

I tried to bandage up my legs with a few million band-aids, but none of them would stay. After reviewing the situation, Aidan determined I should forgo the plain band aids for the Batman band aids that would stay “much better.” And look wayyyy cooler too. Me and my Batman bandaged legs. I was stylin’.

Welcome to Daycare

Griffin handled his first drop off at daycare like a champ this morning. He went willingly to his new teacher and bestowed smiles all around. For a moment, I wasn’t quite sure he was even the same child I had known and loved for the past seven months. Smiling at strangers? Who are you little man?

I, however, was a mess. I cried the whole drive to the school, cried on the walk from the car to the classroom, cried during the drop off, and cried the whole drive to work. Now I have a headache. Big swollen, teary eyes and a huge ol’ headache.

I guess the teachers and the center's director were expecting my mommy messiness. Chris dropped off Aidan and Brennan before I went in with Griffin. Upon seeing Chris, the Director of the Center gave him a sympathetic smile and told him to "run for the hills" before I got there with Griffin. It's good to know I have a rep as the crazy crying mom. The Director shared this story with me as I cried with Griffin in his classroom. I tried to put up a half hearted defense and replied she couldn't have possibly guaranteed I would cry as I did at Griffin's first drop off. Her response? She chuckled, mildly snorted and said, "Don't you remember? You cried when I gave you the tour of the center before any of your kids actually attended school here."

Then one of the other teachers in Griffin's room chimed in with her own memory of me standing outside of Aidan's classroom for a good twenty minutes after his first drop off with tears streaming down my face.

Hmm, well - I guess I am a pretty good bet for the crying thing. But most importantly of all - Griffin did not cry today at drop off. Not a tear. I left with an image of his hesitant smile aimed at his teacher as she held him. That didn't keep me from crying though. Sigh.

He's a Pre-K Graduate!

Aidan has officially graduated from pre-kindergarten. Yes, it is all a little silly that we celebrate the graduation from preschool of all things, but that didn't stop me from crying buckets of tears. It didn't help that they started the ceremony with a picture slide show of all the kiddies in the class over the past year. When you add cute pictures and some sentimental song as a backdrop, I'm a goner. (Hell - I cry at Hallmark commercials! Even my own Nana had to make fun of me for once witnessing my full out tears at at every. single. commercial break as we enjoyed a special presentation of a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie.)

Anyway. The slide show was adorable. My favorite part was a beautiful picture of Aidan with his arms intertwined with his friend Ellie on cowboy day. They are sporting cowboy hats, bandanas and just look plain ol' cute. It resulted in a thunderous "ahhhh" from the crowd.

After the slide show, the kiddies walked down the aisle of the auditorium and entertained us with a few songs. Aidan scored the part of the grouper during some fish song about, well.. a grouper. He had to hold up a cardboard cut out of a fish anytime they sang the word grouper in the song. After the ceremony, anytime we would refer to Aidan's cut out as a fish, he would remind us, "It's a grouper, Mom, a grouper!"

After the ceremony, the school had a picnic for all the families. Hot dogs, face painting, balloon animals, clowns and cupcakes too - can it get any better than that?

For Aidan it can... Our graduation gift to him was his very own copy of the XBox 360 Lego Star Wars game. His shock rendered him momentarily speechless. And then pure joy and euphoria set in as he realized it was his game. To keep. For real.

A picture of Chris and me with our happy graduate.




I know it's just preschool. I do have some perspective (truly!). But it makes me sad because it is a sign of things to come. It has opened the door to my little baby getting on a big school bus and riding off to kindergarten. My sweet little baby, who is now a boy.

Welcome Little One...

Welcome to the world little Molly, third child of my beloved friends Diane and Scott. Molly, we all can't wait to meet you, to hug you, and to tell you all the fabulous stories we have to hold over your parents' heads.

Change

For the last two months of work, Griffin has been at home. We couldn’t get him into daycare until the end of June. While this caused some temporary insanity in trying to find and secure child care for two months, it also made my transition back to work easier. For the month of May, Griffin was loved and snuggled by my best friend Diane’s Mom, Celia. And for the month of June, Griffin was loved and cuddled by my mother in law. These two angels of women probably gave Griffin more love and attention than I could ever, possibly give. And this made me feel better about leaving him to go back to work.

But now things are about to change. Griffin starts daycare next week. For two days a week, he will be cared for in the Infant Room of Aidan and Brennan’s school. I knew I would have a tough time with this, but I didn’t realize how difficult it would be until I took Griffin for a visit to the Infant Room yesterday. I hate this. Just hate this.

Aidan and Brennan did not start daycare until they were old enough to enter the Toddler Programs. They think of daycare as school. They love to go to school. They love circle time and songs, books and arts n’ crafts, games and adventures. They never did the Infant Room. I never had to adjust to leaving an infant at a daycare.

The Infant Room seems more like daycare, rather than school. There is no circle time. Just rows of cribs and bouncy seats. And while I know the women who work in this room will care for Griffin, I am not sure they will love him. And isn’t that really all a baby needs? Love? To be held and cuddled? How can they do this in a group setting? Does every baby really get all the attention they need?

I have so much doubt, too many questions. I have very few answers. And I have a whole lot of guilt over this. Suffocating, overwhelming guilt.

C is for Cookie

Sometimes I feel as if everyone around me has gotten a memo to prepare them for the appropriate thing to do or say in a particular situation. I did not get this memo. I never get the memo.

I just had lunch with three other women. I ordered first. I ordered the hunk of grilled chicken sandwich on foccacia with lots of cheese and fries on the side. Everyone else? Salads. Salads, salads and more salad. This is what professional grown up women do at lunch. They eat salad. And then I always feel as if I am merely pretending to be a grown up and a professional, when in reality, I am the porky child hogging all the fries. Yes, I would like ketchup with that, thank you.

After lunch I return to the office, when one of the guys I work with walks down the hall munching on the most enormous chocolate chip cookie. Without missing a beat and with his mouth full of cookie, he points to the empty conference room strewn with lunch left over from a meeting and mumbles “cookies.”

I am much happier I got the cookie memo over the salad memo. Much, much happier.

Swimming, Missing and More Modeling

Aidan finished up his last swimming class on Monday. There are normally three or four other children in the class, but no one else could make it to this class. This left Aidan with a private lesson. On the way home from swimming, Chris asked Aidan if he liked having the class all to himself. Aidan told him yes, and said the best part was always getting to go first. Hmmm, I wish I had an idea of where Aidan inherited this impatient, Type A behavior.

While Aidan was at swimming with Chris, Brennan, Griffin and I entertained ourselves outside. Every two or three minutes, Brennan would interject, “Momma, where’s Aidan?”

“He’s at swimming class.”

“But I miss him,” Brennan would reply with his eyes wide and sad.

“I know, honey. He’ll be home soon.”

“But I loooove him.”

“He loves you too, B.”

“I neeeed Aidan. I need him, Momma.” And I thought I was going to have some adjustment when Aidan starts kindergarten in the fall. Brennan is going to be simply lost without his big brother by his side.

Sidenote – Aidan has already had a request for another hand modeling gig. Who knew my son would become a sought after hand model? I could not make this stuff up if I tried.

My Son, the Hand Model... Really!

It was Fisher Price day at our house. Brennan was asked to model for some new Fisher Price packaging. I said yes, but with some hesitation after our last modeling experience with Aidan. To put it mildly, Aidan's last shoot did not go all that well. I had to pack up all three kiddies and drive in the beeping minivan from hell. Griffin was in a mood and howled the whole time. And then I, of course, looked like death warmed over with hair that I am not quite sure that I even brushed that day. (Figures - the stylist on the shoot turned out to be a girl that I haven't seen since high school (isn't that always the way?)I can only imagine what she was thinking). After all that, Aidan refused to take any pictures and did so with some fine preschool melodrama and tears. Big, huge, meltdown in the waiting room. It was lots of fun.

Anyway - although Chris chuckled when I told him I was going to give it another try, I decided Brennan deserved his turn at the photo shoot thing. So off we went, all three of us, minus the mini van and this time I remembered to brush my hair. Surprisingly, Brennan did fantastic. He smiled, loved the chance to play with a new toy and seemed to just have fun.

As we were getting ready to leave, the stylist asked if Aidan would be interested in taking some shots. Aidan looked worried, but she said they only needed him for some hand pictures. Hand modeling! He didn't have to smile or look interested in the toy. He just needed to follow directions and hold a bunch of stuff. And of course, he loved it. He not only loved it, but he was good at it too. So good, they asked if they could have him back for some future hand modeling gigs. Heh. My son is a hand model.

Doctors, Monsters and Babies, Oh My...

Long day, yesterday. I worked. Picked up Aidan and Brennan at school. Ran home to drop off the boys to my mother in law and pick up Griffin for a doctor’s appointment. The doctor’s office called twice to ask us to come earlier than our scheduled appointment time of 6:15. So we did. But we got there, and after meeting with the nurse, waited almost an hour in that tiny little examination room. I was a little frustrated and Griffin on the edge of a full out meltdown, when our doctor came running down the hall and apologized for the wait. She inquired about my appointment time and I told her that I was told (twice!) to come early. Her entire face turned bright red and she stormed off to the front of the office. Apparently, the little teenage girl manning the reception desk decided it was too nice a day to stay at work so she took it upon herself to call parents and ask them to come earlier than their appointment times.

There is a special place in hell for this girl. Seriously. I look forward to the day she becomes a mother and has to wait somewhere for what appears to be eternity with a tired, fussy and scared baby that feels like a lead brick after pacing the floor with him in your arms for an hour. I wanted to strangle her with her hair extensions and tie them shut with her enormously large hoop earrings.

And what is up with me, my children, the bad luck with visits to medical professional’s offices and the weird loony people that work at these offices? Do we need to discuss the “mad dentist” again?

Big Sigh. Anyway – Griffin is well and healthy at six months. He is just under 21 pounds and is in the 90% for height and weight.

I returned home just in time to help Chris put the other two boys to bed. Brennan had other ideas though. He found an old pair of sunglasses, put them on upside down, and ran around yelling:

“I am a monstah. Roar! I am a monstah!” After a few more roars, he would stop, take off the sunglasses, look intently at you and ask, “Did I scare you? Did I?” And then off he would go to scare another member of our family.

The boys were all in bed by 8 pm and I had to start making a few million muffins as a favor to a family member. I finally finished up at 9:30 pm. And then my bestest friend Diane called from Oregon to say she is being induced tomorrow with her third baby, a little girl. We all just can’t wait to meet their newest little one. So many babies lately. (Have you seen gorgeous Miles?) It makes me feel like my baby is all grown up at six months.

Speaking of all grown up, Aidan’s preschool graduation is next week. I am taking it as a bad sign that I can not even READ the graduation announcement on his bulletin board at school without tears welling up in my eyes. This could be bad. Very, very bad. Can I be sedated for a preschool graduation?

So Long Sallie Mae...

I graduated from law school in May of 1997. Today, we paid off the rest of my student loans. TEN YEARS LATER. Ten whole years.

Just don’t ask me if it was worth it. Just. Don’t.

Missing Them...

I miss my babies today.

I miss Brennan’s obsession with his booboos and band-aids. He wore two band aids to school today. Thankfully, I am stocked with band-aids in a variety of flavors – including Cars, Batman, Dora and fun neon designs. This morning, Brennan traded in a green neon band-aid for two Cars band-aids.

I miss Griffin and his constant blowing of raspberries. After he blows a raspberry, he gets so excited that he squeals in delight.

I miss Aidan and his non-stop chattering about all things Star Wars. I blame his father for the Star Wars obsession. Ever since he rented Aidan the Star Wars Lego Game for our XBox, it has been non-stop Star Wars. Aidan even has the old school Star Wars figures to play with, thanks to my mother in law, who saved all of Chris’s old figurines. We have Storm Troopers and R2D2. We have Luke and C3PO. Thankfully, I can assist Aidan with the correct name for each figurine, thanks to a childhood as the neighborhood Princess Leia. (My mom even figured out how to turn my hair into the infamous Leia “do.”)

I miss Brennan’s hugs. He squeezes you as hard as he can while he grunts and groans from the exertion of it all. I also miss how he calls me “my momma.” And I always respond with, “my Brennan.”

I miss how Aidan will stop whatever he is doing and walk over to me to ask for a big hug. A big hug requires that I pick him up and hold him tight. It almost helps me forget he is growing into a boy, rather than my baby.

I miss how Griffin will turn his face into my neck to snuggle into me.

I miss their faces and their smiles. I just miss them.

Listen Up

On the way home after a morning of swimming, Brennan says to me, "Momma, I'm leakin'."

I reply, "No, honey. You're just wet from the pool. I'll change you into some dry clothes when we get home."

A few minutes go by.

Brennan: "Really, Momma, I'm leakin'."

Me: "You're fine, Brennan. Fine."

Brennan: "Noooo. I'm wet. ALL over. Wet."

Me: "Just a few minutes more Brenn."

We arrive home. As I am getting dry clothes together for the boys, Brennan runs up to me and yells:

"Now I am really leakin'! Leakin' ALL OVER. I peed Momma ALL OVER."

"Brennan, I am sure you are fine... You, " I stop as I go to change his swim diaper and discover that the poor child, is indeed, leaking urine all over the flippin' place.

"Oh, Brennan," I say, "I am so sorry. You really are leaking."

He looks at me with exasperation and says "I tol you Momma. I tol you!"

He told me. He did.

And then five hours later, Brennan decided to sneak my car keys out of my purse while we were at Aidan's swimming class at the Y. I didn't realize the keys were gone until we got to the car and were trying to leave. No keys in my purse. No keys in my pockets. No keys.

I mutter out loud to myself, "Where did my keys go?" as I rummage through my purse in desperation.

Brennan laughs and says "I took 'em."

Me: "What? You took my keys?"

"Oops. Sorry Momma."

Aidan concerned that his brother may be facing some trouble says to me, "I am sure it was an accident, right Brennan? An accident, right?"

We all trudge back into the Y and begin the search for the missing keys. Some time later, we finally found my car keys on the floor of the locker room.

My life is many things, but it is never dull.

Happiness

Happiness is... swinging in a hammock on a lazy Sunday morning with two of your little boys tucked under each of your arms.

It was a crazy busy weekend. I spent Friday morning at the bank finishing up house closing nonsense with three very patient, wonderful little boys. (I bribed them with a toy at Target later that morning.) We hosted Chris's mom's 60th birthday party on Saturday. I had a wedding shower Sunday afternoon. Sunday evening we headed to our friends' Christine and Dylan's for a leftover party. I felt like we barely stopped moving or preparing stuff to get ourselves someplace else.

But for a few minutes on Sunday morning, I was quiet and calm and did not have to be anywhere but where I was at that very moment, at home in our backyard. Aidan tucked himself under one of my arms and Brennan snuggled into the other. We swung back and forth on the hammock, all three of us, cuddled up as one. I made up some silly stories. We sang a few made up songs. It was peaceful and so very perfect.

Goodbye House

I hold in my hand the checks from the sale of our old house. We finally (FINALLY!) sold our home and closed yesterday. The checks arrived via overnight mail this morning. While there is some relief the deed is done, there is some sadness mixed in. We put so much of ourselves into that house. Every project, each room, every wall had our stamp on it. We painted, we sanded, we knocked out walls. We redid cabinetry and landscaping. We picked each color for every single room with great care and deliberation. I painted trim for months. Chris learned how to put in a bathroom sink and shower. I painted doors. Chris learned how to tile a kitchen floor. For years, we became home improvement junkies and put our heart and soul into creating a home.

We brought two of our babies home from the hospital to that home. We celebrated Chris's MBA graduation and two first birthdays. We laughed and cried in that home. I loved the swingset in the backyard, a hand me down from our neighbors across the street. I loved the lilac trees that bordered our property line and the abundant trees gracing our property. I loved our newly remodeled kitchen and beautiful tile. I loved to read in the family room or spend time watching the trees sway in the breeze. I loved the hardwood floors, the fireplace, and our huge living room. I loved the memories we made in our home.

That home is now someone elses. We left them a bottle of champagne to celebrate their new home and wished them many years of happy memories. I hope they have as many wonderful memories as we did. I hope that house becomes their home.

Goodbye Home.

For the Love of.... the Boobie?

There are a lot of benefits to being a breastfeeding mom to a bebe. Health benefits to the baby, of course. And the side benefit to me of the oh, so very wonderful burning of an extra 500 calories a day. (Unfortunately, those extra calories have not come off of my ass which, despite delivery six months ago, still looks four months pregnant.)

There is the sweetness of cuddling my adorable little boy after a long working day away. The wonder of feeling his little hand hold mine as he nurses. The stolen moments of just the two of us in the early morning hours.

But who knew that I could use the breastfeeding thing to get out of a fire drill and building evacuation? Hmmm, walk down 33 flights of stairs in a crowded, 80 plus degree stairwell in my uncomfortable fancy work shoes? Oh, sorry, I can’t possibly! I have to pump. Hee. This almost makes up for the male colleague who walked in on my pumping session my first week back at work. Almost.

A Cry for Help

I have already confessed that I am NOT the most together person. But sometimes, even I manage to surprise myself. Today, I wore my sweater inside out. To work. I wore my sweater inside out TO WORK. I didn't even notice. Nope. Thankfully, after an hour or so at the office, a kind co-worker noticed. When she told me, I didn’t believe her. And then I looked down and started to laugh so hard, I snorted. Who does this? Who can’t even manage to dress themselves appropriately in the morning? Who?

I was still giggling five minutes later. I need help.

We All Scream For...

The ice cream truck stalks our neighborhood. This was not a problem for us in years past because we told the boys the truck was a music truck. (A special shout out and thank you for this genius parenting technique courtesy of Diane and Scott.) Ice cream? What ice cream?

Sweet boys that they are, Aidan and Brennan loved the music truck and it’s tinny, repetitive, somewhat annoying tunes it played on its daily, often thrice daily trips around our streets. But at the end of last summer, Aidan’s dear friend Ellie filled him in on the secret of the music truck. He was astonished to discover that the music truck not only plays music, but it serves ice cream too. The jig is up.

We celebrated the beginning of summer last week with the boys’ first visit with the music and ice cream truck. Although Aidan informed me, “Mom, it’s not really an ice cream truck because it only serves popsicles.”

Hmm, the music/ice cream/popsicle truck perhaps?

A Little Problem

I have a reading problem. When the new Borders opened five minutes from my house, I quipped to my father in law that “it is almost like opening up a crack house next door to a crack addict.” My credit card would agree.

When I teased a friend because I discovered she knows her credit card number by heart, I admitted, “the only number I know by heart is my library card number.” Yes, sadly, now she can make even more fun of me.

I get antsy when I do not have a book to read. It does not matter if I may not have the time to actually read the book. I just have to know that a book is available just in case I can get to it. I also never travel anywhere without a book tucked into my bag. One of my greatest fears is being stuck somewhere, sometime without something to read. I even keep a book in my desk drawer at work.

When we go on vacation, I have to pack a book for each day of the trip. And one for each plane ride. But, if it’s a super long plane ride, then I have to pack two. Just in case.

It’s beyond an addiction. I need Bookaholic’s Anonymous. The first step is admitting you need help, right?

(To continue on with this random of nothingness, right now I am reading this and this. I just finished this, this and this. I have this and this waiting for me to read. I would also like to read this , this and this.)

Sweetness

I watched the boys play oustide yesterday for hours. The new kiddie pool is quite a hit and the boys entertained themselves with buckets and cups of water. Brennan decided to use his cups of water to make me some pretend coffee. He brought the coffee over to me and with flourish said, "Here you go Momma, coffee for you". I smiled at him, said thanks and just soaked him in for a moment. His little pot belly hanging over his bathing suit, his hair standing up in a million places and his face stained with grape juice and oreos.

"Brennan, Are you just the cutest little boy ever?" I asked.

He grinned at me and replied after a beat, "Yes, Momma, I am."

Yes, he truly is.

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The boys and I headed to our friends' house this morning for some pool and backyard fun. As I unloaded the multitude of plastic bags filled with the enormous amount of stuff it takes to bring three children anywhere, Aidan looks at me and asks, "Mom, Can I take those bags for you?"

"Um, sure," I respond as I hand Aidan the bags. "Thank you, Aidan. That's a huge help to Mommy."

"No problem," He says with a smile, "I know how hard it is for you to carry baby Griffin and all this stuff." He walks away before I can grab him and smother him with hugs and kisses. My sweet, sweet grown up of a boy.

A Food Diary

At the boys' school, you get a daily report card of the kiddies activities when they are in the toddler programs. I love the little report card. It gives me an idea of the nitty gritty of their day - did they nap? what did they eat? did they poop? (Yes, really.) It also always includes a narrative of the activities performed, books read, walks taken about town or fun arts and crafts made. Once the kids grow up and move on to the preschool rooms, there are no more report cards. I missed it once Aidan left the toddler programs, but I still get to enjoy Brennan's reports.

Brennan's report card, however, is a little different than the notes I received on Aidan. In Brennan's case, his teachers love to narrate not only what Brennan ate at snacks and lunch, but the sheer amount of food he consumes. Yesterday, Brennan's teacher wrote that he ate cheese ravioli for lunch, but had to put an extra note in parentheses next to it that said in bold ("SIX!!!"). Last week when he had chicken nuggets for lunch, his teacher wrote ("Lots and Lots!"). The week before they had mac and cheese ("Many Helpings!"). After another mac and cheese day, she wrote ("Loves his mac n' cheese!!! Ate ALOT!). Heh.

Brennan likes his food and he is certainly not bashful about it.

Little Things

Sometimes, it is the little things that keep me smiling. Lots of little things today.

I smiled because Griffin giggled in his crib when he saw my face this morning.

I smiled when I listened to Brennan singing to himself in bed this morning.

I smiled when I sang songs with the boys the whole car ride to school. (Snuggle Puppy is a current favorite.)

I smiled because I overheard this argument between the boys over their bowls of Lucky Charms:

Brennan: "Where'd my momma go?"

Aidan: "She's my mommy too you know."

Brennan: "No. MY MOMMA!"

Aidan: "No, she's MINE TOO."

Brennan: "MYYYYYY MOMMA. MYYYYY Momma! Mine!"

Aidan: "You can't just keep her all to herself. You have to share her, Brennan!"

Brennan starts to cry. I step in to intervene, trying to keep the giggles and smiles in check.

I smiled because I wore my red shoes today. (LOVE THEM! And I keep glancing at them to keep me smiling, even when I was in a meeting this morning. Hee!)

I smiled because the angel watching Griffin for us this month, my best friend Diane's mom, Celia, made me lunch today in the cutest little brown bag. I smiled even more when I realized she even buttered the roll she included in the lunch.

I smiled when I heard my husband's voice from 3,000 miles away and realized he would much rather be home with us.

I smiled when I saw how very pregnant and beautiful my friend Esther looks today. (And no it's NOT twins people. For the LOVE of God already!)

I smiled because damn, spanx are totally the best invention ever and made me look so much cuter in the skirt I am wearing today.

I smiled because I discovered this morning that my aunt dropped three books in my mailbox for me to read. And to me, books are better than candy.

I smiled when I found a bag of peanut m & ms in my desk drawer that I am eating right this very minute!

More smiles to come. I hope. (Glance at red shoes, smile again!)

Long Weekend!

A Long Weekend. Although, technically, due to my part time work schedule, my whole life is a long weekend.

My brothers, Seth and Travis, sister in law, Tennille, and my brother’s girlfriend, Lynda, all came home from NYC for a visit. They all spent lots of time with the boys engaged in tackle, kite flying, water fights, flubber, and coloring. My heart melts a little every time I saw my boys hug their uncles. Aidan loved to hold Travis’s hand. Brennan wouldn’t let Seth get up from the couch while they watched a movie. Griffin managed to drool or spit up on both Tennille and Lynda.

We all had an adult night out at my cousin’s graduation party. Open Bar. Hello apple martinis for me. Dinner afterwards brought many bottles of wine. Drinks after dinner gave me a never ending glass of wine thanks to Tennille’s friend the bartender. This all made for a very tired, cranky and somewhat hung over mommy the next morning.

On Sunday, Chris left for a week long business trip. We are two days in and I count it a success that no one has been locked in the basement. I had a minor nervous breakdown when I realized after he left that I was out of coffee grounds. It was a debate of epic proportions. Load three children into the car just to go to the store for coffee or endure the lack of caffeine while I suffer the sleep deprivation of a single working parent this week? My mother came to the rescue and dropped off coffee for me. (Seattle’s Best, Cinnabon! Mmmmm.) Life is good. Now if I can just keep myself out of the basement for three more days...

Need an Opinion?

Fisher Price Play Lab called today to ask if they could send us a DVD for Brennan to watch. We need to watch the DVD and complete a short survey. In return, we get to keep the DVD and get $15 cash. Um, is this a no brainer, or what? Free DVD, children entertained and happy for at least a half an hour and I get $15?

If I add the $15 to my already earned "Nielson family" salary of $30 - I am up to $45 for simply giving my opinion. This is fun. Lots and lots of fun. If I knew I could get paid for being opinionated, I would have skipped law school all together.

I Want My TV!

Today is our last day as a Nielson family. What is a Nielson family you ask? A Nielson family is asked to record their tv viewing habits for one week. The fancy, important Nielson people take our records and using some complicated mathematical algorithm, come up with tv ratings. Boring stuff, huh?

NOT IN THE LEAST! I was almost too excited to be "part of the Nielson family." (Yep. They really do describe it that way. Cute huh? Little culty, but cute.) First, we got a postcard in the mail to alert us that a customer service rep would contact us by phone to see if we were interested in "joining the Nielson family." I was all a quiver with excitement. I kept asking Chris, "But what if we miss the call? Will they still let me be part of the family if I miss the call?" (Yes, it is amazing he has stayed with me for all these years.)

But we didn't miss the call! Hurray for me! Except, the call came in at probably the worst possible time. Two kiddies in the bath engaged in a heated water fight, one infant screaming his head off, and me trying to fold three tons of laundry. Yet when they asked me if it was a good time, I put on my best enthusiastic family voice and said unequivocally - yes! And then I hung up on them.

It was an accident. I was trying to pick up Griffin, talk on the phone and give the other two boys my best warning look. I was doomed. I hit the phone with my ear and hung up on the Nielson guy. And what does any sane person do in this situation? Well, I cried. Chris was ready to commit me. Seriously, put me away.

"Honey, they will call back," Chris says in a gentle, reassuring, my wife has gone bonkers tone of voice.

"Nooooo, they won't call back," I wail back "We lost our chance! We lost it!"

"They'll call back."

"We'll never be part of the Nielson family! Never!" I cry in hysteria.

Chris gives me a look that suggests I have gone and lost my mind for good this time. I respond with, "Don't you want the shows you watch to get good ratings? Don't you? How would you feel if all we had to watch day in and day out was something like Dancing With the Stars?"

That shut him up. After a few minutes - they called back! And so it was - we became part of the Nielsons. I have tried to be as honest and as accurate as possible in our reporting. (Well, except I told my friend Christine that I would lie and say I watch Brothers and Sisters even though I don't because it is her very favorite show and she may cry if it gets canceled. But other than that - I swear - total honesty. )

I was proud to mark down the time I watched a show on PBS, but embarrassed to record that I watch the Bachelor. (I know - it's like a car wreck and I. Just. Can't. Stop. Watching.) I was a little ashamed at the amount of tv the kiddies watched last Sunday morning, but hey - sunday morning tv equals a mommy who gets to read the sunday paper. I learned that Chris never remembers what he watched on tv the night before and he describes every show he watches as "some kind of law and order thing." I also learned that I never, ever get to watch the news, unless you count the ten minutes I get dressed to the sounds of the Today show on my working days.

All in all, it has been interesting. And they paid us $30 too!