Aliens Have Abucted My Children and I Like It

Wednesdays are normally tough nights in our house. It's hump day of my work week (T/W/TH) and the boys are wiped from two full days out of the house in school. It doesn't help that Griffin only naps periodically at school and Brennan has been on a complete school nap strike. By the time we arrive home, I am guaranteed some bickering and screaming leading to tantrums with tears. Lots of tears.

But then there is today. After I picked Brennan and Griffin up, we headed to grab Aidan who goes to my Aunt's house after school. Aidan hopped into the car munching on a bag of chips he clutched in his hand. I counted to ten, knowing the inevitable brawl that was about to occur when Brennan realized he didn't have chips. I was surprised to hear this:

Brennan: "You have chips Aidan?"

Aidan: "Yes."

Brennan: "Can I have some chips Aidan?"

"Sure," Aidan replies as he hands him a handful of chips.

Brennan: "Thank you Aidan."

Aidan: "You're welcome."

Hmmmm, what is this? Sharing? Manners? Kindness? I was afraid to even comment and incur the wrath that is the jinx of mommies everywhere.

We arrived home moments later. On normal Wednesdays, one or two of my children will dissolve into hysterics by the time the front door is shut. This is followed by rapid fire demands cried at me in high pitched whines. "I want to watch tv." "I want dinner." "I want milk." "I have to go potty." "I want my binky." "I want my blankie." For twenty to thirty minutes after arriving home, I manage to comply with continuous demands and extinguish the fires of hysteria brought on by sheer exhaustion in my children. And on each and every Wednesday, I question my decision to work. Because it is that bad.

Today? We walk in the house. Aidan volunteers to take Brennan's shoes off for him. I settle Griffin in the high chair with a snack and offer to put on a Caillou episode while I make dinner. I brace myself for the nightly fight over the television selection. (Brennan likes Curious George. Aidan is more a Super Why kid.)

"Caillou!" The boys yell with jubilation as they happily settle onto the couch without one demand, without one whine and without one tear.

I make dinner in a peaceful, quiet kitchen and enjoy the babbles of Griffin from his high chair. The boys eat dinner - even taking the required bites of veggies without a whine in sight. At this point, I am convinced. Aliens have abducted my children and replaced them with robots. Is it bad I may want to keep these little robots? Maybe just for a little while?

Mommy Negligence

Has anyone ever turned their back on their crawling baby for perhaps, a moment or two? And then discovered said crawling baby eating out of the garbage?

No? Just me. Good. Good to know.

On a totally unrelated topic, I have to share and document the best thing said to me today. Brennan and I were snuggled up on the couch. After hugging me for the millionth time, he smiled at me and said, "Momma, you make me happy."

It almost made me forget that an hour earlier, I had to put him in his room kicking and screaming and crying so loud I was convinced our neighbors would call the police.

I may let them eat garbage, but at least I make them happy. How's that for some maternal justification?

Free at Last

I escaped today. I managed to carve out an afternoon of nothingness. Nothingness sans children, that is. The euphoria of the child free afternoon bubbled inside of me as I danced my way out of the house to my car intent on getting myself to Borders. I ignored the screams of my children as they protested my leaving and yelled "good luck" to Chris over their hysteria. When I just had one child, I would have felt guilt at leaving when I saw the tears. After three children, I just giggle and run before my husband can change his mind.

I sipped coffee, ate a scone and browsed books to my heart's content. I did some retail therapy at Ann Taylor Loft (shhh, don't tell the hubbie) and even took in a matinee. It was perfect.

After the movie, the reality of Wegmans awaited. But Wegmans child free is a wonder. No crying, no bribes. Just me, leisurely strolling the aisles as I marked items of my list.

As I checked out, the college student/check out clerk made small talk with me. He admired the weather and noted how busy the grocery store was today. And then he asked, "Did you do anything really, truly exciting this weekend?"

I laughed. "Exciting? Hmmm, probably not."

"No?" The clerk smiled.

"Well, this is exciting for me, " I said with a grin. "I have three children under the age of five. So going grocery shopping without children in tow and hearing crying or tantrums that I have no responsibility for - well, that, to me is exciting."

The clerk's smile faded as he stared at me. Then he said, "Wow, that's pretty pathetic."

It's a good pathetic, though. I came home to a smothering of hugs and kisses from Aidan and Brennan and excited sqeals from Griffin in the high chair. I took the boys outside to push them on the swing and then sat on the grass with Griffin and watched Chris play football with the older boys. We laughed and cuddled. We chased and tackled. We enjoyed each other.

Nothing pathetic in that. Nothing at all.

Soccer!

With my hubbie otherwise engaged, the soccer duties fell to me today. While I have taken Aidan to his various toddler soccer activities, this was my first glimpse into the world of "real" soccer in the distinguished kindergarten-1st grade slot for our town's soccer league.

Pre-soccer, we had my friend Christine over with her girls' Ellie and Casey. I asked her to keep an eye on the kiddies so I could take a moment to actually brush my hair. At her laughter I responded, "Yes, I will not brush my hair for a visit with you - but for all those soccer moms, I'll break out the brushin'".

And was I so glad I did. So very glad. (I only wish I had thought to break out some lip gloss.) Because, apparently, the entire town of who-ville plays soccer. It was a mass of mini vans and SUVs descending upon the soccer fields. All for the love of five year olds who can't kick the ball and run at the same time.

But for one of those five year olds, mine, that hour of soccer was a picture of a child in pure joy. Aidan didn't score a goal. I'm not sure he even attempted a goal. But every moment he was on that field, he was laughing or grinning. He loves the game. Not the score. Not the competition. Just the game. It was such a pure emotion, so unspoiled. Just pure joy.

Tired

I'm tired. Last week, before the plague struck our home, I told Chris I seriously needed a little break. A day or two away from our beautiful children to regroup and refresh. As payment for uttering this fallacy out loud, the stomach flu from hell struck our family down one, by one. Instead of peace and rest, I was gifted with the smell of vomit stinging my nostrils. (I swear, even a week later, I swear! I can still smell it.)

And that brings us to today. Since Wednesday, Chris has been burning the midnight oil at work. He is gone before we get up in the morning and home after we are in bed. He will not be home until late tonight and is also tied up all day tomorrow. From morning 'til night, it's mommy time.

I am not sure I am going to make it. The acrobatic juggle of children, work, life, friends and family has left me spent. I do not have an ounce left to give. I feel utterly depleted. And I spend way too much time dreaming of me alone in a hotel room with nothing but a room service menu, a good book and silence.

Me and Buzz

"I love you," I said to Brennan as I gave him one last final good night hug.

"I love you too Momma," He replied back with a smile.

I turned to leave.

"You know what Momma?"

"What B?"

"I love you the best."

My heart melted as I stared down at his sweet, earnest brown eyes.

Then he paused and continued, "After Buzz Lightyear Mom, I love you the best."

Well, at least I beat out Woody, right?

Kindergarten: The Update

All is well and good in kindergarten land. Aidan is adjusted. He likes the bus. He loves his class, particularly his little friend Danny who he talks about incessantly. I asked him, yesterday, if he plays at all with Todd, a friend's child in his class.

"No, not really," he responded.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Todd is not a good listener." Aidan said emphatically. In my silence, he went on to say, "And he likes to talk when the teacher is talking. And Mom, That Is Not A Good Thing."

Okay then. Aidan is also apparently very well adjusted to the rules of the classroom.

Now we just need to convince Aidan that the entire family does not need to join him at the end of the driveway each and every morning to wait for the school bus. All five of us. Every morning. After a week at waving at the neighbors as they drive by, I have a hunch we have gone from the cute family with the new kindergartener to the freaky family out every morning to greet the neighbors in our pjs. I'm hoping they ask us to pose for a picture for the neighborhood newsletter.

The Plague

The Plague has descended upon our house. Aidan and Brennan tag teamed a happening Friday night of vomit and poo. The flu revelry was action packed and lasted all night long.

This morning, I tucked Aidan under a blanket on the couch where he sleepily watched some mind numbing tv.

"Thanks, Mom," he said with a sleepy smile. After he snuggled deeper under the blankets, he smiled again and said, "You know what? This feels just like Christmas."

Yes, because unlike other children who equate Christmas with gifts, santa and holiday cheer, my children now equate Christmas with vomit and poo thanks to the furious stomach virus that was Christmas 2006. This gives me many creative ideas for our Christmas card this year.

The Vomit Chronicles

We had plans to see Ani DiFranco on Wednesday evening at the Church. We left the kiddies with Grandma JoJo and were off to enjoy some preconcert drinks with friends.

I slurped up the last drop of my raspberry martini at Scarlett when Chris's cell phone rang. It had the ring of doom. Our night of freedom, music and fun lasted all of an hour because Griffin started projectile vomiting all over the flippin' place. He even managed to coat my mother in bile - leaving her wandering our home in her bra.

Instead of dancing the night away to Ani's tunes, we spent the better part of the evening playing catch the vomit before it hits the floor.

Just livin' the dream, one day at a time.

Bus Update and a Game of Tag

The only tears at the bus stop this morning were mine. Aidan hugged me goodbye, slapped Chris a high five, said goodbye to both his brothers and hopped on the school bus without a care in the world.

This made me cry. It’s a lot harder to send your child off to school when they are happy and not kicking and screaming. I only wish I thought to take a picture of Aidan as a happy bus goer.

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In unrelated news, I have been tagged by my dear cousin Kristen to write eight random things about me. (My first tagging, very exciting.) I think there are some rules about what to write and how to pass it on, but I’m bad at rules.

So here’s my version of some randomness about me:

1. I once rode the bobsled track at Olympic Park in Park City Utah. It was very fast and it scared the hell out of me.

2. If I was alone in the car during my long drive home from college, I would put on the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack and pretend to be Belle. Really. I’d sing at full volume each and every note right along with Belle. With inflection.

3. I have been a passenger in a police car three times in my life. Two of the three times involved some (ahem) underage drinking. The third was my police ride along for my training as an assistant district attorney. During my ride along, we got in the midst of a threatened shoot out with a ‘perp” after a burglary. This made me so excited I told one of the detectives that, “I almost peed my pants.” That engendered a lot of respect for me among my friends, the cops.

4. I am a horrible liar. The only way for me to make a fib look passably believable is to convince myself that it is actually true.

5. I didn’t drive on the highway until I was nineteen. I failed my drivers test the first time I took it. (I blame it on my husband, Chris, who taught me how to drive when I was 16.) I also like to drive fast. Really, really fast.

6. I love to bake. When I first learned how to make apple pie, I was so excited that I made two or three a week until my husband had to gently put an end to my madness.

7. I once wore one brown shoe and one black shoe to work. It was two hours before I noticed.

8. I can’t sleep at night unless my husband is next to me. And I still cry when he has to go away on a business trip.

The Bus (again!)

Kindergarten: the Bus ride take two. The big yellow bus stopped in front of our driveway, opened its doors and the cousins waved at Aidan, again. And Aidan? He melted down in hysterics, again. Chris tried to nudge him up the stairs of the bus, but Aidan just screamed louder and grabbed at me. As we were about to concede parental defeat and just drive the boy to school again, the bus driver told Chris to carry him onto the bus and put him in the seat. And so he did. Chris picked Aidan up and carried him, crying and screaming, to the front seat of the bus. Chris sat Aidan down in the seat and our cousin Liam immediately sat down right next to Aidan, thereby preventing Aidan from leaving his seat.

Chris ran off the bus. The bus driver smiled at us, waved and said, “He’ll be fine.” I could still hear Aidan crying as the bus driver shut the bus doors. My son, the kindergartner, restrained and hysterical, off to his second day of school.

Chris followed the bus to school in his car in order to reassure us both that Aidan would be okay. Aidan was fine, of course. He hopped off the bus, laughing, content to stride into school among a sea of his cousins. As he passed Chris, he grinned and slapped him a high five.

Sigh. While Chris drove to Aidan’s school, I had to go in and get the other two munchkins off to their school. Brennan dissolved into a fit of tears when he found out he had to leave for the day. At first I thought he was sad to be away from me, but then I knew better. Brennan just loved having the house, Aidan’s toys and Aidan’s room all to himself. God bless that middle child.

Tonight I have my very first parent association night. I have to confess to a bit of nervousness myself. The other mothers scare me. I have a feeling they would never let their nine month old eat rice off the floor (I did yesterday) or lose their car in a parking lot (two days ago) or put carrots in the freezer instead of the fridge (last night.) It's going to be a long night.

Kindergarten: Game On

It started out well enough. We trucked the whole family out to the driveway to wait, with excited anticipation, for the big yellow school bus to arrive and pick Aidan up for his first day. See how happy he looks? So happy. So very, very happy.

There were hugs all around. Some excited waves as neighbors drove by us. And Brennan rocked his early morning fashion statement of a sweatshirt hastily thrown over his Batman pjs with crocs.



And then the bus arrived. Aidan's cousins excitedly waved from the bus as the big door swung open. Aidan made it up one stair and well, then it all just went to shit. My dream Kodak moment shot of my little boy climbing up the stairs on his first real school bus looks like this:

This is Aidan running back to grab me after making it up only one stair of the school bus. After this picture was taken, we endured ten minutes of screaming as Aidan clutched my leg, my arm or any other part of my body he could hang onto while he wailed in terror. I did everything I could to get him on that bus, including climbing right up there with him. Nothing worked. He screamed louder. Minutes ticked by and the line of cars behind the bus snaked around the block. Finally, we admitted defeat and let the bus head on to school without Aidan.

Unfortunately, we still had to get the kid to school. The meltdown continued inside the house until Chris carried him, screaming, into the car to drive him. Apparently, he cried and screamed (Aidan, not Chris - although I am sure Chris was tempted) the whole ride to school. When they arrived at school, the principal took Aidan, wailing, and told Chris she would walk Aidan to his classroom. We were told by the principal and by kind family and friends that Aidan calmed down once he was inside of his classroom.

And this afternoon? Aidan rode the bus home. Without a tear or a sniffle. Of course, I don't have a Kodak moment picture to share of his triumphant bus return because I was too busy opening my arms for a giant hug from my little kindergartner.

But if you ever want to see the meltdown to end all meltdowns? We have video of the entire morning. Chris caught the whole thing on our camcorder. I may make Aidan watch it when he's 18 and off to college.

Twas the Night Before Kindergarten

As I tucked Aidan in bed tonight, I spent a good fifteen minutes talking about what to expect tomorrow at kindergarten. We covered the bus, the class, the other kiddies. We talked about getting ready for the day, his clothes, his friends and his teacher. We went over his lunch and its contents. We even discussed the snack he wants when he gets off the bus.

After I kissed him goodnight and turned to leave, Aidan smiled at me and asked, "So, what are we doing tomorrow mom? It's a mommy day right?"

I look at him perplexed and responded with exasperation, "Aidan, you're going to school tomorrow."

"I am?" He asked with shock, "But, it's Monday. I don't go to school on Mondays."

I closed my eyes, shook my head back and forth and prayed to the god of all mothers for patience. After a beat or two, I smiled and said quietly, "You start kindergarten tomorrow, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, right. Kindergarten. Okay."

Ah, boys.

Kindergarten: The School Supply Drop Off

Who knew there were so many facets to starting kindergarten? Friday was school supply drop off day. I am happy to report we conquered school supply drop off without incident. No tears, no screaming, and no breakdowns. (Well, okay, there may have been one wee little incident. Just a small matter of my mistakenly setting off my car alarm in the school parking lot when I thought I was locking the car doors. My life is destined to be a constant spectacle.)

I liked school supply drop off day. I think it went a long way for helping Aidan feel comfortable in his classroom and with his teacher. We were told supply drop off was from 10-11 a.m. Fortunately for Aidan, I am a slacker Mommy and we arrived at approximately 10:55. By then, all the other kiddies and over achiever mommies had come and gone, leaving us alone in the new classroom with Aidan's new teacher. I wish I could say I planned that. Yep, I did! I did! (Pat self on back. )

After the supplies were all taken care of, we were off for a hand modeling gig for Aidan at Fisher-Price. I still giggle when we arrive and the stylist is all lotioning up his hands and filing his nails. The humor in this never gets old for me. Coming soon to a toystore near you - Aidan's hands will soon be featured on the package of some pirate mountain thingie. We also caught some of his earlier work at the Fisher-Price store. His hands are on the boxes of the shake and go planes. It's beautiful work, I tell ya. My hand famous little boy.

Happy Birthday Aidan!

We took this picture when Aidan was just five weeks old. I look at him today, at five years old, and my heart breaks a little to remember him as a baby. Tonight, I was so very grateful he is still young enough, still small enough, to snuggle up in my lap.

Kindergarten: The Screening

Today was kindergarten screening day for Aidan. Our appointment time with his teacher was 9 a.m. We arrived in the school parking lot at 8:52. Aidan started crying and screaming at approximately 8:53. In between his cries and general hysteria, he refused to get out of the car and yelled he didn’t want to go to kindergarten anyway.

“I’m not going!” “I’m not going!” He yelled repeatedly as his screams got louder and louder.

I sat in the front seat, taking deep breaths, furtively looking around the parking lot for other parents with their calm and happy kindergartners who would now be witnesses to my parental ineptitude. As I did this, I also fought off the temptation to just start screaming right along with him.

A good mother would have known how to calm her child down. A good mother would have been able to reason with her child. A good mother would have validated her child’s fears, but still manage to get her child to be brave.

What did I do? I smiled at him and through a clenched jaw told him that if he did not get out of the car right this very minute, I would call up his preschool and reenroll him for another year of pre-k. I went on and said, “And if you aren’t in Kindergarten, this means you can’t do many of the big boy things you like to do. Including playing Star Wars Legos on the XBox!”

He was out of the car one minute later. I didn’t reason, act calming or validating. Nope. I just threatened. Great parenting technique.

Once we were in the building, he did great. Not a tear or a hiccup in sight. I am convinced children have multiple personalities that allow them to turn their emotions on and off at a whim. They are like little Sybils.

Monday morning, the bus arrives to pick Aidan up at 7:30 a.m. I am not sure if even the threat of a world without Lego Star Wars is even enough to get my child on that bus.

Is This Normal?

I turn to Chris after an especially hellish morning with the kiddies and ask with an irritated sigh, "Do you sometimes look at the chaos that is our life and think this is just plain insane??"

He looks at me, shrugs and replies, "No. I've just convinced myself this is normal."

Lived to Tell the Tale of the Party

We did it. We successfully planned and executed Aidan's fifth birthday party. The key to our genius success? The key to entertaining sixteen five year olds? We didn't do the party at home. No clean up, no stress and how much do I just adore the local YMCA? Bunches and oodles of love and adoration to the Y.

We rented out the Y's Adventure Room. The Adventure Room is every child's dream. It's a huge two level room with slides, climbing walls, suspension bridges, cushy blocks, and one giant ass "mountain" composed entirely out of humongous gym mats. The kiddies went crazy nuts for an hour and then retreated to another room for cake and a pinata. All Star Wars themed, of course. We even gave out "Jedi Space Goop" as favors. (plain ol' flubber with a picture of Yoda.)

I may never, ever, have another child party at our home again. Ever.


Aidan and Brennan hold on for dear life on top of the mountain. And at the end, the daddies had to do some climbing too. (I kept out the pictures I have of our dear friend Dylan climbing up the mountain wall. I may just use those for some blackmailing at a later date. I couldn't resist putting in the picture of Chris having a blast though.)

B-Day or is it D-Day?

Tomorrow is Aidan's 5th Birthday Party. Tomorrow I am responsible for the entertainment and well being of fifteen 5 year olds. (Oops! Actually, 16, we had another RSVP come in this morning.) I question my judgment. When, exactly did I believe this was a good idea?

What's For Dinner?

The boys had finished dinner and were wild with play racing through the house when Chris got home from work. Griffin managed to crawl right after his older brothers, intent on finding a way to participate in the fun.

Chris walks into the kitchen where I am cleaning up and asks, "Did Griffin have peas for dinner?"

Me: "Yes, Why?"

Chris hands me a handful of small green little peas. And then gestures to the family room. A thin trail of peas marks Griffin's path as he crawls from room to room chasing his brothers.

Me: "Huh. I swear I cleaned him up after dinner. " In response to Chris's dubious expression, I exclaim, "I did. Really!"

Chris walks over to Griffin and picks him up. From the outside, he looks clean and pea free. Gently, Chris shakes him up and down, releasing a steady stream of green peas hidden inside his onesie onto the floor.

I think he was saving those up for later. Just in case. 'Cause you never know when you might want some peas.

Beaching It!

We spent Sunday at a friend's beach cottage. The boys went wild over the beach, the lake and the waves. Griffin even managed to get in on the action and crawled himself right into the lake to share some play with his brothers.

The most challenging part of the day? Surviving the 25 minute ride to the beach with the eager beaver kiddies in the back seat. "Are we there yet?" "Where's the beach?" "I don't see the beach." "Is that the beach?" "I don't see any sand." "Where's the water?" "How much longer?" And my personal favorite comes from Aidan who after ten minutes said with exasperation, "Are we even in the same STATE anymore?" 25 minutes of endless questions, bickering and impatience. It was worth it though. Well worth it.

Quarter Hoarder

We spent the afternoon today at one of Aidan's friend's birthday party at the local bowling alley. The bowling alley also featured a mini-arcade with games galore. Aidan is my little video game addict. (I so blame his father.) This little addiction kept Aidan pretend playing and gazing at all the games in the arcade in pure delight.

After some bowling and pizza, the birthday boy's father gave each child four quarters for the arcade. I saw Aidan grab the quarters and run in a mob of boys to the arcade.

Ten minutes later, Aidan walked over to me and asked if I had any quarters for him. As I looked through my purse and wallet, I told him I didn't.

"Didn't you get four quarters to play already?" I asked him.

"Yes," Aidan replied.

"Okay, I will give you a dollar to get change, but no more after that okay?" Aidan nodded as I pulled the dollar out of my wallet.

"Take the dollar over to the counter and the man will give you four quarters. Okay, Aidan?"

Aidan gazed at the dollar in awe. He looked at me, over at the attendant, and back at the dollar bill he clutched in his hands.

After some hesitation, he said, "Okay."

I saw the hesitation and figured he was nervous about approaching a stranger for change. "Do you want me to go with you to get change?" I asked.

He shook his head and walked away.

When we returned home a few hours later, Aidan told me he needed to empty his pockets.

"What's in your pockets?" I asked him.

He smiled a shy smile, giggled and showed me a dollar and four quarters.

I laughed out loud for a good three minutes.

"Why didn't you use the money to play games?"

He shrugged and said, "I wanted to save it instead. I'm going to put it in my bank."

My little quarter hoarder.

Bye Bye

After three days, one pair of pants sacrificed to the gods of potty training, more viewings of Potty Power than I’d care to admit, and even more singings of the multitude of Potty Power songs, we’ve got some action on the potty. Once. Just one little ol’ deposit. But, it’s a start. We’ve got POTTY POWER!

In other child news, Griffin can wave bye-bye. This may explain to my neighbors why my entire family keeps standing on the front lawn waving to Griffin at the front door for about ten minutes every morning, while we shout “bye bye” in rather loud child like voices. Yes, we may be somewhat annoying, but Griffin is Just Too Damn Cute as he waves his little hand back and forth. Bye Bye Griffin, Bye Bye...

Cheating Sleep

After work yesterday, I attended a cooking class at Delish with my friend Carolyn. (Wine, good food, easy recipes, and peanut butter whoopee pie! Yum.)

When I returned home to find the boys already in bed, my heart hurt a little bit. I hate not seeing them all day and missing the chance to hear their voices before they were off to sleep.

One by one I checked on them before I went to bed. First Aidan, then Brennan and last Griffin. Neither Aidan or Brennan stirred when I gently kissed them and covered them with their blankets. As I covered Griffin, he moved, restless, raised his head sleepily and looked at me. After a quick glance, he rested his head back on his crib and closed his eyes.

That’s when I cheated. I should have quietly left his room on tip toes so as not to disturb his slumber. I know I should have. Instead, I gently rubbed his head and whispered, “Are you awake?”

He wasn’t. But I pretended he was. I picked him up as he slept and cradled him in my arms. I walked over to the rocker, sat down and bundled us both up in a soft blanket. Slowly, we rocked together in the dark. I snuggled him. I kissed him. And I simply inhaled his beautiful baby scent.

There are times I wish my children would sleep. In my head, I beg and plead and dream of their sleep. Sleep to bring me just a moment of peace and quiet. And then I cheat. Because just when they do what we want, what we need, all I want is for them to be awake. Awake for me. To give me a chance to love them up and end my day snuggled under a blanket with them in the dark.

Potty Power!

We have relaunched the effort to get Brennan potty trained for good. What brought on this effort? This enthusiasm? This plan? Well, Diego pull ups were on sale at Target. The big box too! So, I took it as a sign that we should reenter the land of pull ups, plastic potty chairs and the Potty Power potty song.

What? You don't know the potty song? The annoying little ditty playing repeatedly in my head? The one I just can't stop singing like some sort of lunatic every time Brennan sits on his little plastic throne?

I can do it myself. I'm a big kid now. I can do it myself. I've got Potty Power. No need to tell Mom. No need to tell Dad. I know what to do and I'm so glad. I can do it myself. I'm a big kid now. I can do it myself. I've got Potty Power. Potty Power!

The term "Potty Power" should be emphasized during the song with a hand salute to the gods of potty that is almost naziesque in form.

Brennan also likes to sing the other potty song from Potty Power while he sits on his plastic potty.

No More Diapers for me. Say Goodbye Diapers Bye Bye. I can use the potty, going to give it a try. No more Diapers for me. Bye Bye.

Yes, all the potty singing in our house so does need to be made into a video for mockery on You tube, but I can't afford the years of therapy it would require for my children.

Anyway. Potty training for the fifth or sixth time. I think this time it may really stick. Really!

We had much effort on Brennan's behalf. Much sitting and reading (and singing), but well, no actual deposits were made. We did have quite an enthusiastic false alarm when Brennan declared he was: "for sure going poppy on his potty this time." But after a few minutes of silence, he came running out smiling and told us all, "No poopies! I just got a lot of my gas out." Then he laughed like a hyena. I think we all joined him. In the laughter part, not the gas.

Good Monday for our house. Target, potty singing and gas. Could you ask for anything more?

Fun at the Fair

We hit the fair today with the boys. As part of the annual family picnic, my firm provided tickets, ride passes and food. So off we went to peer at the cows, pet some sheep, ride some rides and eat some fried dough.

The boys loved the cows and sheep. (Oh, the smell though. Icky, horrible smell.) They hated the rides. We tried three times to get them on a kiddie ride. Each attempt was met with such unbridled hysteria you would think we tried to force them into their very own version of hell. It was fun to watch all the other smiling kids get on the rides, wave to their moms and dads as they rode the carousels, and hoot as they honked their little toy horns. But, not my boys. Nope.

I enjoyed some buttery cinnamony goodness of fried dough. Chris munched on some vinegary french fries. The boys loved their icees.

Not to be left out of the fun, Griffin waited until we all sat down for lunch at the Firm picnic to unload the leakiest, ickiest, stinkiest poop in baby history. Because, really, what is my day without some bodily fluid marking it's territory? There is nothing better than changing a poop infested child while he screams his head off in front of your five million coworkers. It's good for morale. I'm hoping it makes the company daily newsletter. Yeehaw!

Life of a Mom

I love my children dearly. I love being a mother. But there are days when it takes every ounce of willpower, every last reserve of strength, every bit of patience left in my soul to survive my children. Today was such a day.

Griffin threw up all over the kitchen and me. Then he pooped all over me. I actually looked at my third pair of pants of the day, and asked Chris, "Is this poop or vomit on me?"

I had to clean poop out of the carpet. How it got there, I have no idea. None.

I lost count of the time-outs enforced for the bickering and lack of sharing. At one point, I had to carry Aidan (all 50 plus pounds of him) up a flight of stairs to his room while he kicked and screamed.

No one napped. Not one of my children. Brennan got mad at me after I made him turn off the television, so he yelled, stomped his foot, glared at me and said, "You're a bad momma. Bad!"

Is it wrong that made me cry?

Aidan ran into the garage door. (I have no idea.) The result was a bloodied lip, blood everywhere on him, and some blood to add to the variety of bodily fluids staining many of my t-shirts.

The police came in the midst of all this chaos. They thought our alarm had gone off. They had the wrong address, but still they hesitated at the door of my home . I have a feeling the blood stains on mine and Aidan's shirts gave them no comfort.

Just as I was about to simply give up and allow the kiddies to drone out in front of the tv, we lost power. Cruel, cruel world. Four hours with no electricity. This means four hours with no back up tv on hand. Four hours of just a cranky mommy with three very grumpy children. I hate that damn power company.

I counted the minutes to the 7 p.m bedtime. Maybe even the seconds. Aidan and Brennan went down willingly. But Brennan's repeated howling of his "ABCs" at full volume in the next bedroom got Griffin in such a state, he refused to sleep. He just wailed. I had to rock him for no less than two hours to get him quietly into his crib.

Finally, by 9 p.m., we had power, the boys were all asleep, the house was blissfully quiet and I wore clothes unstained by blood, vomit or poo. And tomorrow, I get to do it all over again. Such is the life of a mom.

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.”