Our gift to Chris for father's day was a morning free to enjoy a leisurely game of golf with his buddies. I also threw in a box of golf balls and the boys made crafty cards. (One of the pluses to day care is that most of the holidays are taken care of with crafty handmade projects.) Griffin even made a hat for Chris, displaying Griffin's fingerprints all over the hat in bright rainbow hues. I love the hat even more when Griffin puts it on backwards and refuses to take it off.
After golf, we met up at the pool for lunch and some swimming. After a week without their Dad, the boys were in full on daddy mode, but Griffin may have outdaddied them all. Griffin refused to let Chris do or go anywhere without being in his arms. I was quite the third wheel.
As I played in the pool with Brennan and Aidan - challenging their friends to races around the pool - Brennan hugged me tight and whispered in my ear, "You are lots of fun Momma. I love you." He finished off his sweetness with a wet, chlorinated kiss on my cheek. Oh, the little love.
We went home for quick naps mid afternoon, only to wake the kiddies up to head over to my grandparent's house for dinner. The boys are like rock stars among the company of their adoring cousins. Patrick wowed them with his skateboard tricks off of the deck. Liam took Griffin for rides on his skateboard. Aidan and Brennan threw rock after rock with Nicole into the stream. My cousins Bridget and Casey even got Griffin to bust his groove and renamed the little dance, "the Griffin." (Later that evening, I heard Bridget asking her father to do the "Griffin" Dad! And then she illustrated the patented dance moves for which our little guy is slowly becoming famous.)
It was a perfect ending to a wonderful family day.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Cleanin' House
I think I am slightly deranged. Chris was gone on a business trip from Sunday until midnight on Thursday. The week was challenging, but apparently not challenging enough - because I decided to end the week with a bang: by participating in the neighborhood garage sale.
I greeted my husband early Friday morning with a "welcome home honey," now will you help me move all our old baby crap into the garage?
The sale was supposed to start at 9 a.m. We were swarmed by 8 a.m. with serious garage salers. My friend Christine had brought her stuff over and we sold, sold, sold until we both had fistfuls of one dollar bills stuffed in our pockets.
We continued the festivities on Saturday morning with Christine and our friends Cynthia and Greg. It was a garage sale party, complete with Starbucks delivered fresh by Greg. Our six kiddies kept each other entertained as we wheeled and dealed.
At the end of the morning, we had a fire sale with the leftovers, delivered two carfuls of stuff to Goodwill, and grilled up some hot dogs to celebrate. I ended up with about $350 in profit - not bad for a few exersaucers, some baby clothes, and books.
The garage sale was not just an excuse to clean out the basement, but it signaled a firm end to the baby years. While I have given baby clothes away here and there, this was the first full scale clean out of all our baby paraphernalia. Goodbye high chair. Goodbye exersaucers and bouncy seats. Goodbye boppy and your sweet soft chamois cover. So long changing table and baby swing. It's all gone now.
I am not going to dwell on the numerous customers of our garage sale who were forced to buy our baby stuff because they had sold/given away all their baby stuff and then got unexpectedly pregnant with baby three, four or five (!!). (My favorite was the woman on Friday who told us she just had her fourth baby, a two month old baby girl. When she broke the news to her husband that she was unexpectedly pregnant, he got dizzy and almost passed out. Hee.)
I greeted my husband early Friday morning with a "welcome home honey," now will you help me move all our old baby crap into the garage?
The sale was supposed to start at 9 a.m. We were swarmed by 8 a.m. with serious garage salers. My friend Christine had brought her stuff over and we sold, sold, sold until we both had fistfuls of one dollar bills stuffed in our pockets.
We continued the festivities on Saturday morning with Christine and our friends Cynthia and Greg. It was a garage sale party, complete with Starbucks delivered fresh by Greg. Our six kiddies kept each other entertained as we wheeled and dealed.
At the end of the morning, we had a fire sale with the leftovers, delivered two carfuls of stuff to Goodwill, and grilled up some hot dogs to celebrate. I ended up with about $350 in profit - not bad for a few exersaucers, some baby clothes, and books.
The garage sale was not just an excuse to clean out the basement, but it signaled a firm end to the baby years. While I have given baby clothes away here and there, this was the first full scale clean out of all our baby paraphernalia. Goodbye high chair. Goodbye exersaucers and bouncy seats. Goodbye boppy and your sweet soft chamois cover. So long changing table and baby swing. It's all gone now.
I am not going to dwell on the numerous customers of our garage sale who were forced to buy our baby stuff because they had sold/given away all their baby stuff and then got unexpectedly pregnant with baby three, four or five (!!). (My favorite was the woman on Friday who told us she just had her fourth baby, a two month old baby girl. When she broke the news to her husband that she was unexpectedly pregnant, he got dizzy and almost passed out. Hee.)
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Welcome to the Peanut Allergy
In April, Brennan had an allergy attack. The doctor has recommended all our boys get allergy screened at three years of age based upon Chris’s history of severe food allergies. Brennan’s attack made it apparent we may have an allergy issue on our hands.
I finally took him for blood work to have the allergy screen on Monday. Brennan handled the process like a champ and afterwards asked me with great seriousness, “Momma, why do those people have to suck so much of my blood out of my arm?” I explained we were having him tested for allergies and our doctor would call us with the results in a few days.
Our doctor called us this morning. Brennan tested as severely allergic to peanuts, as well as a whole host of other things, including dogs. I have to pick up an epi-pen today. I was directed to carry it with us at all times. I was told to get rid of anything and everything in our house with nuts. I also made an appointment with a specialist for further testing for our B.
I know there are worse things. I know. But my heart still broke a bit for Brennan, and the restrictions and care he will now have to put into his food choices and his life. He will have to be in a peanut-free room at school. He will have to be warned and warned again about safe snacks. And he is always at risk for an attack – a scary, horrifying thing for me to even think about, particularly if it happens when I am not there. I can’t guarantee that every bite he takes is peanut free. I can’t protect him from all of this. This scares the hell out of me.
I finally took him for blood work to have the allergy screen on Monday. Brennan handled the process like a champ and afterwards asked me with great seriousness, “Momma, why do those people have to suck so much of my blood out of my arm?” I explained we were having him tested for allergies and our doctor would call us with the results in a few days.
Our doctor called us this morning. Brennan tested as severely allergic to peanuts, as well as a whole host of other things, including dogs. I have to pick up an epi-pen today. I was directed to carry it with us at all times. I was told to get rid of anything and everything in our house with nuts. I also made an appointment with a specialist for further testing for our B.
I know there are worse things. I know. But my heart still broke a bit for Brennan, and the restrictions and care he will now have to put into his food choices and his life. He will have to be in a peanut-free room at school. He will have to be warned and warned again about safe snacks. And he is always at risk for an attack – a scary, horrifying thing for me to even think about, particularly if it happens when I am not there. I can’t guarantee that every bite he takes is peanut free. I can’t protect him from all of this. This scares the hell out of me.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Bedtime Blues
Last night before bed, Brennan had an accident. As I cleaned up the urine soaking Griffin's rug, Griffin found a nearly full bottle of softsoap in the boys' bathroom and dumped the entire thing on the floor. I found the boys skating on the slippery mess a few minutes later.
After many "what are you thinkings?" all the way around, I cleaned up the soap and threw a towel down on the floor. Brennan walked into the bathroom, looked me square in the eye, squatted on the towel and said to me, "Now you're going to have to clean this up too." He them promptly peed on the floor.
Have I mentioned I hate the age of three? Yes, several times, right? 'Cause I do.
It took every ounce of mommy willpower for me not to lose my shit right then and there. I went to my happy place, conjured up a calm from some reserves I didn't even know I had, and put Brennan immediately to bed without snack, books or cuddles. He screamed for a good fifteen minutes at full volume.
It was quite a relaxing Sunday evening.
-------------------------------------------------------
I get obsessive about enjoying the outdoors in summer. If it is sunny and warm, we must be out and about soaking up every last bit of it. We have hit the pool for three days in a row, sometimes twice a day. We will go again today. Last night, I told Chris I am actually hoping we get a nice day of rain to have the excuse of a lazy day. So far, no luck - just sun, sun and more sun. How can I complain?
After many "what are you thinkings?" all the way around, I cleaned up the soap and threw a towel down on the floor. Brennan walked into the bathroom, looked me square in the eye, squatted on the towel and said to me, "Now you're going to have to clean this up too." He them promptly peed on the floor.
Have I mentioned I hate the age of three? Yes, several times, right? 'Cause I do.
It took every ounce of mommy willpower for me not to lose my shit right then and there. I went to my happy place, conjured up a calm from some reserves I didn't even know I had, and put Brennan immediately to bed without snack, books or cuddles. He screamed for a good fifteen minutes at full volume.
It was quite a relaxing Sunday evening.
-------------------------------------------------------
I get obsessive about enjoying the outdoors in summer. If it is sunny and warm, we must be out and about soaking up every last bit of it. We have hit the pool for three days in a row, sometimes twice a day. We will go again today. Last night, I told Chris I am actually hoping we get a nice day of rain to have the excuse of a lazy day. So far, no luck - just sun, sun and more sun. How can I complain?
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Movin' On Up
Aidan is officially a first grader. Kindergarten graduation was sweet. The two kindergarten classes lined up, in kickin' Styrofoam and cardboard graduation caps, for a procession onto the stage in the school gym. I saw Aidan, in his shirt and tie, walking with such confidence and joy, and the tears all started a-flowin'. He was so handsome. He looked so happy. I was beyond proud.
The temperature was expected to reach 90 degrees, but Aidan insisted on wearing a shirt and tie for the festivities. (of course, right?). We had to get to the school early to assist with set-up, but after we left Aidan's best friend Danny called our home to ask what Aidan was wearing for graduation. I saw his mother later and she told me Danny informed her, "If Aidan is wearing a tie, then I have to wear a tie, Mom." Chris told Danny, Aidan was, indeed with tie, and so Danny opted for the Alex P. Keaton kindergarten wear with Aidan.
Did I mention the school gym has no air conditioning? 90 degrees, humid and approximately 175 people in a school gym with one door propped open for air? It was hell. The only benefit of assisting with the set up was it allowed me a good excuse to run into the kitchen attached to the gym and keep sticking my head into the freezer.
Each child received a diploma, handed over by the school principal (who used to teach me math back in the day.) They sang four songs, showed us a picture slide show of their year and gifted their teachers with flowers. Afterwards, the homeroom parents hosted a reception in the gym. In spite of the heat, things went smoothly.
While other families went off to nice lunches to celebrate graduation day, I told the boys I would take them straight to the pool. BEST decision I have ever made. I was even eager to get on my suit and jump right in to the water. We stayed at the pool for hours, swimming and playing.
We then raced home so I could get a cookin' and ready for Chris's Mom's birthday dinner. The dinner was a success. Everyone went home happy. And I fell asleep watching a movie with Chris at 9:15 p.m. Another rockin' Friday night for our family.
The temperature was expected to reach 90 degrees, but Aidan insisted on wearing a shirt and tie for the festivities. (of course, right?). We had to get to the school early to assist with set-up, but after we left Aidan's best friend Danny called our home to ask what Aidan was wearing for graduation. I saw his mother later and she told me Danny informed her, "If Aidan is wearing a tie, then I have to wear a tie, Mom." Chris told Danny, Aidan was, indeed with tie, and so Danny opted for the Alex P. Keaton kindergarten wear with Aidan.
Did I mention the school gym has no air conditioning? 90 degrees, humid and approximately 175 people in a school gym with one door propped open for air? It was hell. The only benefit of assisting with the set up was it allowed me a good excuse to run into the kitchen attached to the gym and keep sticking my head into the freezer.
Each child received a diploma, handed over by the school principal (who used to teach me math back in the day.) They sang four songs, showed us a picture slide show of their year and gifted their teachers with flowers. Afterwards, the homeroom parents hosted a reception in the gym. In spite of the heat, things went smoothly.
While other families went off to nice lunches to celebrate graduation day, I told the boys I would take them straight to the pool. BEST decision I have ever made. I was even eager to get on my suit and jump right in to the water. We stayed at the pool for hours, swimming and playing.
We then raced home so I could get a cookin' and ready for Chris's Mom's birthday dinner. The dinner was a success. Everyone went home happy. And I fell asleep watching a movie with Chris at 9:15 p.m. Another rockin' Friday night for our family.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Of Stress, Car Inspections and Graduation
Chris and I are a good match because we balance each other out. I tend to be, well, slightly emotional and (ahem) somewhat high strung, while not much rattles my dear husband. His constant calm in the face of my emotional up and downs help keep me centered.
Last night, I got home from work already stressed out. My stress level just increased as I exchanged a few hundred emails with the other kindergarten homeroom parents regarding the plans for the upcoming graduation ceremony, reception and the teachers’ gifts. I realized I had to get the kiddies fed and I had all of a half an hour to race around the house to get out in time for my very first tennis lesson. (Tennis? What am I thinking?) My stress only went higher as I navigated dirty dishes, Aidan’s school papers and I tried to come up with a plan as to when, exactly I was going to bake cupcakes for Aidan’s graduation reception. Oh, and did I mention I am hosting Chris's family for dinner Friday night for Chris's Mom's birthday?
Chris couldn’t handle my running around the house like a wound up ball of anxiety and finally forced me to stand still as he asked me, “What are you stressed about? What is going on with you?”
I gave him my evil overworked mommy glare as I blurted out, “Work was crazy. The house is a mess. I have to leave for tennis in fifteen minutes and I’m hungry. Should I eat dinner or wait? I have to make cupcakes for the graduation reception on Friday – but I don’t know when I am going to do that since I have to work tomorrow and set up for graduation on Thursday night. Two of the parents from the class haven’t paid the money for the teacher gift. I need to buy the teacher gift. And now I am going to be late for tennis!” I threw my hands up in frustration as my head spun.
Chris hugged me, pulled away from and said quietly, “So basically this is about cupcakes, kindergarten and tennis lessons?”
Well, when you put it like that – even I think I sound a bit like a nutcase. Damn it.
_______________________________________
My friend Cynthia called me this morning to warn me the Whoville Police had staged a roadblock on the way to the boys’ schools to check inspections and registrations. As I may have mentioned, my inspection expired back in January. (I know. I KNOW. I just haven’t had a chance.) Thanks to Cynthia’s kind phone call, I took the back roads and avoided a showdown with the law enforcement of Whoville. (And I still got Aidan to school and myself to work on time. How’s that for a morning success story?)
________________________________________
Did I mention tomorrow is Aidan’s kindergarten graduation? I cried after I dropped him off at school today. My baby, a boy who had to be carried kicking and screaming into school for his first day, is happily moving on to first grade. I am so proud of the boy he is, but a part of me will always miss my baby.
I give myself one minute into the ceremony until I am weeping inconsolably.
Last night, I got home from work already stressed out. My stress level just increased as I exchanged a few hundred emails with the other kindergarten homeroom parents regarding the plans for the upcoming graduation ceremony, reception and the teachers’ gifts. I realized I had to get the kiddies fed and I had all of a half an hour to race around the house to get out in time for my very first tennis lesson. (Tennis? What am I thinking?) My stress only went higher as I navigated dirty dishes, Aidan’s school papers and I tried to come up with a plan as to when, exactly I was going to bake cupcakes for Aidan’s graduation reception. Oh, and did I mention I am hosting Chris's family for dinner Friday night for Chris's Mom's birthday?
Chris couldn’t handle my running around the house like a wound up ball of anxiety and finally forced me to stand still as he asked me, “What are you stressed about? What is going on with you?”
I gave him my evil overworked mommy glare as I blurted out, “Work was crazy. The house is a mess. I have to leave for tennis in fifteen minutes and I’m hungry. Should I eat dinner or wait? I have to make cupcakes for the graduation reception on Friday – but I don’t know when I am going to do that since I have to work tomorrow and set up for graduation on Thursday night. Two of the parents from the class haven’t paid the money for the teacher gift. I need to buy the teacher gift. And now I am going to be late for tennis!” I threw my hands up in frustration as my head spun.
Chris hugged me, pulled away from and said quietly, “So basically this is about cupcakes, kindergarten and tennis lessons?”
Well, when you put it like that – even I think I sound a bit like a nutcase. Damn it.
_______________________________________
My friend Cynthia called me this morning to warn me the Whoville Police had staged a roadblock on the way to the boys’ schools to check inspections and registrations. As I may have mentioned, my inspection expired back in January. (I know. I KNOW. I just haven’t had a chance.) Thanks to Cynthia’s kind phone call, I took the back roads and avoided a showdown with the law enforcement of Whoville. (And I still got Aidan to school and myself to work on time. How’s that for a morning success story?)
________________________________________
Did I mention tomorrow is Aidan’s kindergarten graduation? I cried after I dropped him off at school today. My baby, a boy who had to be carried kicking and screaming into school for his first day, is happily moving on to first grade. I am so proud of the boy he is, but a part of me will always miss my baby.
I give myself one minute into the ceremony until I am weeping inconsolably.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Did You Hear All That?
Chris was out of town on an overnight business trip yesterday. He called home at bedtime to say goodnight to the boys. When it was Brennan's turn, I heard loud explosive sounds coming from the floor where Brennan was sitting as he carried on the conversation. After a minute or two, I heard Brennan ask, "Did you hear all that Daddy? Did you?"
Brennan shook his head and asked, "No?" He waited a beat, listened to his next self generated explosive sound and said into the phone, "What about that one?"
"No?" Brennan asked again, surprised and continued, "That was me! Passing lots and lots of big gas! Okay? Love you Daddy!" With that, Brennan dropped the phone and ran into the playroom to play.
I picked up the phone to the sound of Chris's laughter. I am sure that little slice of home made his cushy, kid free hotel room seem lonely in comparison. At least that's what I like to tell myself.
Brennan shook his head and asked, "No?" He waited a beat, listened to his next self generated explosive sound and said into the phone, "What about that one?"
"No?" Brennan asked again, surprised and continued, "That was me! Passing lots and lots of big gas! Okay? Love you Daddy!" With that, Brennan dropped the phone and ran into the playroom to play.
I picked up the phone to the sound of Chris's laughter. I am sure that little slice of home made his cushy, kid free hotel room seem lonely in comparison. At least that's what I like to tell myself.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
A Perfect Afternoon
I had a perfect afternoon with the boys today. After partying it up at Mile's first birthday party, the boys snoozed a bit on the ride home so I opted to skip nap time in favor of an early bedtime. We popped some popcorn, watched a movie and snuggled up on some pillows on the playroom floor. After the movie, we colored, we danced, danced revolution and had an early dinner. Before bed, we grabbed a stack of books and snuggled up in my bed to read.
It was one of those days where I sighed after they were all in bed and said a quiet prayer in awe of these three little blessings. (Instead of, you know, those days where I say a quiet prayer they are all quiet, in bed, and I pour myself a glass (a big, overflowing glass) of wine to calm my nerves.)
It was one of those days where I sighed after they were all in bed and said a quiet prayer in awe of these three little blessings. (Instead of, you know, those days where I say a quiet prayer they are all quiet, in bed, and I pour myself a glass (a big, overflowing glass) of wine to calm my nerves.)
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The Wallet Fiasco
I was thrilled to leave work tonight, eager to begin my long weekend with the boys. My eagerness is probably what made me forget my wallet. My wallet with all my money. The money I need to pay the nice parking attendants for allowing me to park my car in their nice ramp.
Of course, I didn't realize I forgot my wallet until I had given the ticket to the attendant and reached for my wallet to pay him. My wallet wasn't in my purse. I had no money. A long line of cars stretched behind me while I dumped my purse out onto my car floor looking for the lost wallet. The attendant finally took pity on me (or feared the look of fury on the drivers in line behind my car) and told me he would pay my fare, but asked me to park my car in the street to return to my office and find my wallet.
I quickly find a spot on the street and park my car illegally, putting on my flashers as I dodged traffic to return to my building. (Not only am I parked illegally, but my inspection sticker was due for renewal in January. I am a ticket waiting to happen.) I run into the building as fast as my heels and skirt can carry me. Enter one elevator to get to the lobby. Get to the lobby and realize my security card and all my other identification is also in my wallet. I try to sweet talk my way past the guard, but apparently I am not sweet enough and I must present some threat because he refers me to the guard station with suspicion in his eyes.
I beg and plead with the guards at the guard station to allow me to take yet another elevator up thirty some floors to retrieve my wallet. It takes TEN MINUTES of arguing for them to finally, reluctantly let me pass the security checkpoint to get back to my office without the required identification. (I mean, really! What kind of threat do you think I posed exactly? Grrr.)
Get of elevator, run down the hall to my office, and find the fucking wallet hidden in the back of a fucking drawer. (If I had remembered to pack my lunch, instead of running out to grab Subway, this would have never happened, damn it.) With wallet in hand, run back down the halls to get back on the elevator and run into a colleague who expresses surprise when he sees me and says, "You left like a half an hour ago?!"
Yes. Yes, I did leave a half an hour ago. Thank you for reminding me. Out of breath, I recount the whole, annoying little story and watch an elevator of people giggle at my expense. Race out of elevator to next elevator to parking garage. In parking garage, race to attendant's booth to give him back the fare money. Then race as fast as I can to retrieve my flashing illegally parked car and pray, pray, pray I escaped a ticket.
And I did! NO Ticket! Hallelujah!
I was in a total pisser of a mood until I got home and saw my eagerly anticipated order from Amazon had arrived. My order of Dance, Dance Revolution for our Wii - which guaranteed me a night of dancing my tail off to some silly disco tunes. Things started to look up. I just may dance, dance the night away...
Of course, I didn't realize I forgot my wallet until I had given the ticket to the attendant and reached for my wallet to pay him. My wallet wasn't in my purse. I had no money. A long line of cars stretched behind me while I dumped my purse out onto my car floor looking for the lost wallet. The attendant finally took pity on me (or feared the look of fury on the drivers in line behind my car) and told me he would pay my fare, but asked me to park my car in the street to return to my office and find my wallet.
I quickly find a spot on the street and park my car illegally, putting on my flashers as I dodged traffic to return to my building. (Not only am I parked illegally, but my inspection sticker was due for renewal in January. I am a ticket waiting to happen.) I run into the building as fast as my heels and skirt can carry me. Enter one elevator to get to the lobby. Get to the lobby and realize my security card and all my other identification is also in my wallet. I try to sweet talk my way past the guard, but apparently I am not sweet enough and I must present some threat because he refers me to the guard station with suspicion in his eyes.
I beg and plead with the guards at the guard station to allow me to take yet another elevator up thirty some floors to retrieve my wallet. It takes TEN MINUTES of arguing for them to finally, reluctantly let me pass the security checkpoint to get back to my office without the required identification. (I mean, really! What kind of threat do you think I posed exactly? Grrr.)
Get of elevator, run down the hall to my office, and find the fucking wallet hidden in the back of a fucking drawer. (If I had remembered to pack my lunch, instead of running out to grab Subway, this would have never happened, damn it.) With wallet in hand, run back down the halls to get back on the elevator and run into a colleague who expresses surprise when he sees me and says, "You left like a half an hour ago?!"
Yes. Yes, I did leave a half an hour ago. Thank you for reminding me. Out of breath, I recount the whole, annoying little story and watch an elevator of people giggle at my expense. Race out of elevator to next elevator to parking garage. In parking garage, race to attendant's booth to give him back the fare money. Then race as fast as I can to retrieve my flashing illegally parked car and pray, pray, pray I escaped a ticket.
And I did! NO Ticket! Hallelujah!
I was in a total pisser of a mood until I got home and saw my eagerly anticipated order from Amazon had arrived. My order of Dance, Dance Revolution for our Wii - which guaranteed me a night of dancing my tail off to some silly disco tunes. Things started to look up. I just may dance, dance the night away...
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Mommy's Band Aids
After work yesterday, I was finishing up dinner with the boys when I glanced out the back door and saw my Aunt’s yellow lab, Bo in our backyard. Bo is famous for jumping his electronic dog fence, wandering the neighborhood and forcing my Aunt and cousins to look for him for hours upon hours. In order to save them from the protracted dog hunt, I yelled to Chris to grab me a scrap of food and ran outside the door. I chased Bo in my tights, dress and pearls around our neighbor's backyard for a good ten minutes until Chris got my Aunt on her cell and she ran over to grab him. (My neighbors must think I am a loon. Crazy lady in her pearls waving a wad of cheese at a dog... I may get a rep.)
Upon returning inside, I am greeted by a howling Griffin who is screaming “Bo! Bo!” at the top of his lungs while banging on the back door. Griffin appeared to be a tad bit concerned over Bo’s escape and spent the next ten minutes crying full out tears while yelling, “Dog! Bo! Dog! Bo!”
We managed to calm Griffin down and announced to the boys it was time to head upstairs for bedtime. After a brief fight over who gets to use the boys’ bathroom first, Aidan gave in and retreated to the master bathroom to do his business. He came out of the bathroom a minute later clutching my box of tampons and asked me, “Mom, what are these?”
I am mid change from my work clothes and cursed my freakin’ bad luck to be the only parent in the vicinity of this question. How do I explain tampons to a five year old boy? Is there a parenting manual for this? I wish I had researched this ahead of time because I was stumped. I think I managed to come up with something along the lines of a “band aid for mommies,” but from the puzzled look on Aidan’s face, I am not sure if my explanation made any sort of sense at all.
A band aid for mommies? How is this the best explanation I could come up with?
Brennan (Thank you dear Lord) interrupted my rambling explanation to Aidan to demand (once again) that he wear his Buffalo Bills jersey to school tomorrow. My refusal leads to a huge tantrum until we finally compromise on Brennan wearing the Bills jersey to bed instead of his normal pjs. (There is no way he is wearing that jersey out of the house. Our only Bills jersey in a house full of boys and it’s a McGahee jersey! No. Way. In. Hell. But after my attempts at explaining tampons to a five year old, I doubt very much I can reason with a three year old by telling him that his beloved jersey bears the name of a man who hates Buffalo, said some horribly mean things about Buffalo and impregnated like half the city while he lived here.)
By the time my kids are in bed, I am ready to collapse. And it’s only 7:30 pm.
Upon returning inside, I am greeted by a howling Griffin who is screaming “Bo! Bo!” at the top of his lungs while banging on the back door. Griffin appeared to be a tad bit concerned over Bo’s escape and spent the next ten minutes crying full out tears while yelling, “Dog! Bo! Dog! Bo!”
We managed to calm Griffin down and announced to the boys it was time to head upstairs for bedtime. After a brief fight over who gets to use the boys’ bathroom first, Aidan gave in and retreated to the master bathroom to do his business. He came out of the bathroom a minute later clutching my box of tampons and asked me, “Mom, what are these?”
I am mid change from my work clothes and cursed my freakin’ bad luck to be the only parent in the vicinity of this question. How do I explain tampons to a five year old boy? Is there a parenting manual for this? I wish I had researched this ahead of time because I was stumped. I think I managed to come up with something along the lines of a “band aid for mommies,” but from the puzzled look on Aidan’s face, I am not sure if my explanation made any sort of sense at all.
A band aid for mommies? How is this the best explanation I could come up with?
Brennan (Thank you dear Lord) interrupted my rambling explanation to Aidan to demand (once again) that he wear his Buffalo Bills jersey to school tomorrow. My refusal leads to a huge tantrum until we finally compromise on Brennan wearing the Bills jersey to bed instead of his normal pjs. (There is no way he is wearing that jersey out of the house. Our only Bills jersey in a house full of boys and it’s a McGahee jersey! No. Way. In. Hell. But after my attempts at explaining tampons to a five year old, I doubt very much I can reason with a three year old by telling him that his beloved jersey bears the name of a man who hates Buffalo, said some horribly mean things about Buffalo and impregnated like half the city while he lived here.)
By the time my kids are in bed, I am ready to collapse. And it’s only 7:30 pm.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Sunday Morning Ain't What It Used to Be
By 8:30 a.m. this Sunday morning, I had drank three cups of coffee, watched 1/2 of the Incredibles movie, broke up two fights between the boys over a new golf putter, stripped the sheets of everyone's beds, did a load of laundry, played four games of twister, unloaded the dishwasher, loaded the dishwasher, played matchbox cars, and picked up about a million and one toys/legos/blocks/action figures.
How's your Sunday morning? Relaxing? Good. Good for you.
The pool opens for the summer swimming season at 11 a.m. Aidan and Brennan have already dressed themselves into their swimsuits and have asked me, oh, about a million times "is the pool open yet, is it?" We may not make it until 11.
Yesterday, we enjoyed a fabulous time at Kid Fest. The boys went wild over the bounce houses and games. Their cousin Liam was the first official dunkee in the Dunk tank. It was a crowd pleaser. Travis accompanied us to Kid Fest and may have been a bit overwhelmed at his introduction to the kiddie scene. I am not sure what he liked more, the stirring rendition of "Lucky Ducky" by the child's entertainer or assisting the boys win a hundred and one pieces of candy to torture me with their sugar highs.
Later that day, my brothers and sister in law came over for dinner with Grandma JoJo. The highlights of the evening had to be the line drive into a very full diet coke (I won't discuss Trav's spot on throw to Aidan), Griffin's dancing with Seth and Tennille (Tennille can really bust a move to the Cars theme song), and watching Travis and Seth duke it out in a very lively Wii boxing match. (I have video. I may post it. It's that funny. Either that or I may ask for a substantial bribe to keep it private. My dear brothers - I am now accepting offers.)
How's your Sunday morning? Relaxing? Good. Good for you.
The pool opens for the summer swimming season at 11 a.m. Aidan and Brennan have already dressed themselves into their swimsuits and have asked me, oh, about a million times "is the pool open yet, is it?" We may not make it until 11.
Yesterday, we enjoyed a fabulous time at Kid Fest. The boys went wild over the bounce houses and games. Their cousin Liam was the first official dunkee in the Dunk tank. It was a crowd pleaser. Travis accompanied us to Kid Fest and may have been a bit overwhelmed at his introduction to the kiddie scene. I am not sure what he liked more, the stirring rendition of "Lucky Ducky" by the child's entertainer or assisting the boys win a hundred and one pieces of candy to torture me with their sugar highs.
Later that day, my brothers and sister in law came over for dinner with Grandma JoJo. The highlights of the evening had to be the line drive into a very full diet coke (I won't discuss Trav's spot on throw to Aidan), Griffin's dancing with Seth and Tennille (Tennille can really bust a move to the Cars theme song), and watching Travis and Seth duke it out in a very lively Wii boxing match. (I have video. I may post it. It's that funny. Either that or I may ask for a substantial bribe to keep it private. My dear brothers - I am now accepting offers.)
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Cupcake Madness
So I bought this book. It's called Hello, Cupcake. It is a beginner guide to decorating cupcakes and it promises to teach you to create amazing things out of a plain ol' cupcake just by using some ziplock baggies and candy.
I have a weakness for things like this because I honestly do believe that I too can create cupcakes resembling dragons or penguins at the drop of the hat. It's all part of my mommy dementia. I must bake atractive cupcakes to resemble farm animals! Because, yes, I have nothing else to do, right? (sure. sigh.)
Chris honestly laughed out loud when he saw the book arrive from Amazon. He tried to hide his amusement when I set off on my first baking experiment. But yesterday, using only my zip lock baggies, some tootsie rolls, a few m & ms and cut up circus peanuts, I made these for Aidan's school's Kid Festival Bake Sale:
I have a weakness for things like this because I honestly do believe that I too can create cupcakes resembling dragons or penguins at the drop of the hat. It's all part of my mommy dementia. I must bake atractive cupcakes to resemble farm animals! Because, yes, I have nothing else to do, right? (sure. sigh.)
Chris honestly laughed out loud when he saw the book arrive from Amazon. He tried to hide his amusement when I set off on my first baking experiment. But yesterday, using only my zip lock baggies, some tootsie rolls, a few m & ms and cut up circus peanuts, I made these for Aidan's school's Kid Festival Bake Sale:
Hello cupcake! I may be just a tad bit overexcited about my little chocolate lab cupcakes. Just a bit. Not quite sure I like what this says about me as a person, but at least I have cute cupcakes, right?!
Friday, May 23, 2008
'Cole
The boys and I hit the park this morning with my cousin Nicole. We spent a good amount of time collecting pussy willows near the lake. The boys used them as swords, as flags and as something pretty cool to just bang against stuff to watch them explode into white fluffy pieces. At one point Griffin noticed Nicole walking away from us as a group, dropped everything in his hands and ran towards her as fast as he could, tripping over his feet as he yelled, "'Cole! 'Cole!"
When Nicole didn't immediately turn towards him, he bellowed loudly, "'COLE!" until she finally turned towards him. She smiled down at his anxious face. Griffin lifted his arms, smiled at her and demanded, "UP!"
Nicole swung Griffin up onto her hip and he snuggled in close to her. They walked off together, Griffin's head resting on her shoulder.
I have to admit I had tears in my eyes watching a girl I knew and loved as a child, now loving up my child.
When Nicole didn't immediately turn towards him, he bellowed loudly, "'COLE!" until she finally turned towards him. She smiled down at his anxious face. Griffin lifted his arms, smiled at her and demanded, "UP!"
Nicole swung Griffin up onto her hip and he snuggled in close to her. They walked off together, Griffin's head resting on her shoulder.
I have to admit I had tears in my eyes watching a girl I knew and loved as a child, now loving up my child.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Back to Reality
My girls’ weekend away to the beach was wonderful. The glow of my dream weekend lasted for all of 24 hours, right up until Monday afternoon when I was on the telephone with one of my aunts trying to secure the future babysitting services of my cousin, and I had to keep interrupting our conversation to plead with my boys to please, for the love of all that is holy, KEEP YOUR CLOTHES ON ALREADY.
They wouldn’t keep their clothes on. Aidan or Brennan (I am not sure which one, but I know with some reasonable certainty that it wasn’t Griffin) made up some new game that involved running around the house in their underwear screaming at loud volumes and scaring the pants (literally) right off of each other. Griffin even managed to express his desire to join in the naked game by shouting “off” at me and lifting his hands up to the sky to try and take off his shirt.
I shudder when I think of what my life looks (sounds?) like to the outside world. My aunt finally gave up on our call and promised to call me back at a later time. She never called back. I think my inability to get an entire sentence out without stopping to shout at my children has made me an annoying telephone conversationalist. Slightly.
But the glow of vacation! The glow! It was a good glow. It was a glow of naps, beach, dinners out and about, girl talk until midnight each night and sunburned noses. It was a glow of basking in the company of a girlfriend I see way, way too little. It was a great glow.
I realized a few things on my vacation. I used to hate being trapped on a plane for hours during travels, but I now embrace the travels as an indulgence when I am traveling alone. I can sit in a seat in relative peace for hours, watch the Food Network or HGTV all I want and some nice lady will bring me a diet coke? Blissful.
I also realized that my ability, prechildren, to sit for hours and devour book after book may be gone. I have multitasked my life to such a degree over the last five years that I may have lost my ability to simply be still. I feel a little shell shocked to not have a million and one needs or demands to attend to all at once. My mind and body were twitching with the force of staying still and reading. By day three, I had regained some comfort with stillness in small amounts, but I wasn’t at my top, prechildren state. (I still managed to read all four books I had brought along for the trip though. Diane and I even read, side by side in beach chairs, the same book for the morning of day one – Jennifer Weiner’s Certain Girls. Sadly, I have to report – it wasn’t Good in Bed.)
There was a bit of irony for our girls’ vacation when I checked into the rental car agency, reservation in hand, and was told they sold out of every car imaginable, except for a handful of minivans. There is something a lot funny about going away without your kids for the weekend and driving a suburban assault vehicle for the duration of your trip. Heh.
But for now, girls’ weekend in paradise is a nice, fuzzy memory for me to hold onto as I face the reality of my life. I have to admit – it’s a pretty nice reality to return to, naked, screaming children and all.
They wouldn’t keep their clothes on. Aidan or Brennan (I am not sure which one, but I know with some reasonable certainty that it wasn’t Griffin) made up some new game that involved running around the house in their underwear screaming at loud volumes and scaring the pants (literally) right off of each other. Griffin even managed to express his desire to join in the naked game by shouting “off” at me and lifting his hands up to the sky to try and take off his shirt.
I shudder when I think of what my life looks (sounds?) like to the outside world. My aunt finally gave up on our call and promised to call me back at a later time. She never called back. I think my inability to get an entire sentence out without stopping to shout at my children has made me an annoying telephone conversationalist. Slightly.
But the glow of vacation! The glow! It was a good glow. It was a glow of naps, beach, dinners out and about, girl talk until midnight each night and sunburned noses. It was a glow of basking in the company of a girlfriend I see way, way too little. It was a great glow.
I realized a few things on my vacation. I used to hate being trapped on a plane for hours during travels, but I now embrace the travels as an indulgence when I am traveling alone. I can sit in a seat in relative peace for hours, watch the Food Network or HGTV all I want and some nice lady will bring me a diet coke? Blissful.
I also realized that my ability, prechildren, to sit for hours and devour book after book may be gone. I have multitasked my life to such a degree over the last five years that I may have lost my ability to simply be still. I feel a little shell shocked to not have a million and one needs or demands to attend to all at once. My mind and body were twitching with the force of staying still and reading. By day three, I had regained some comfort with stillness in small amounts, but I wasn’t at my top, prechildren state. (I still managed to read all four books I had brought along for the trip though. Diane and I even read, side by side in beach chairs, the same book for the morning of day one – Jennifer Weiner’s Certain Girls. Sadly, I have to report – it wasn’t Good in Bed.)
There was a bit of irony for our girls’ vacation when I checked into the rental car agency, reservation in hand, and was told they sold out of every car imaginable, except for a handful of minivans. There is something a lot funny about going away without your kids for the weekend and driving a suburban assault vehicle for the duration of your trip. Heh.
But for now, girls’ weekend in paradise is a nice, fuzzy memory for me to hold onto as I face the reality of my life. I have to admit – it’s a pretty nice reality to return to, naked, screaming children and all.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Getting Away
Tomorrow morning at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m., I am on a flight to Florida bound for a no-child weekend with my girlfriend Diane. The six children we have between us will be safely at home under the adoring attention of their fathers as we enjoy three days of beach, sun and an amazing recipe for frozen cosmos.
We will girl talk to our hearts’ content. We will sleep in each day until our eyes pop open, well rested and refreshed. We will indulge in frothy, girly drinks and eat lots of chocolate. We will read book, after book, after book without one interruption of someone needing a trip to the potty, a juice box or their nose wiped. We will soak up the sun in our beach chairs pulled to the very edge of the Gulf of Mexico, enjoying the ripple of waves over our lazy feet.
I am giddy with just the thought of it.
Let’s hope we remember to catch our flights home on Sunday.
We will girl talk to our hearts’ content. We will sleep in each day until our eyes pop open, well rested and refreshed. We will indulge in frothy, girly drinks and eat lots of chocolate. We will read book, after book, after book without one interruption of someone needing a trip to the potty, a juice box or their nose wiped. We will soak up the sun in our beach chairs pulled to the very edge of the Gulf of Mexico, enjoying the ripple of waves over our lazy feet.
I am giddy with just the thought of it.
Let’s hope we remember to catch our flights home on Sunday.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Tuesday
Brennan has a webkinz, a tiger. He sleeps with the webkinz every day, each night and generally just carries the stuffed animal here and there, including to school. He refuses to go to bed without it. The webkinz name is "Luke", an ode to our Star Wars fanatical house. (Aidan's webkinz is, appropriately, named "Ben.")
Today, I forgot Luke at school when I picked up Brennan. I remembered fifty other things: his blanket, his jacket, his Star Wars spaceship, his artwork and notes home, but I forgot the damn webkinz. Unfortunately for me, we didn't realize Luke was missing until right before bed. Thus, it was too late to run over to the school and bring Luke home to Brennan.
Bedtime did not go well tonight. Brennan screamed, howled and yelled at full volume for a good ten minutes. He moved on to a keening cry "I want my webkinz" repeated several hundred times until we could talk him down. I had just calmed him down to a reasonable level when Aidan walked into Brennan's room, seemingly to give a sympathetic smile to his brother, but did so while gleefully throwing his webkinz, "Ben", from arm to arm to remind Brennan of what he had lost.
And then the whole breakdown started all over again. I banished Aidan and Ben, calmed Brennan down and gave him four other stuffed animals to sleep with for the night.
Let's all say a collective prayer that Luke is safe and sound at school in the morning or there may be hell to pay. (Thank God Chris has drop off duties tomorrow morning.)
In other Tuesday news, Aidan's class went on a field trip to a working farm today. His favorite parts of the trip were, "milking the goat" because the milk "was really warm" and "walking through all that poop and pee." He also told me next time he should probably wear boots to the farm, because "wow, there really is a lot of poop and pee." Our valuable tuition dollars at work.
And that, in a nutshell, is our Tuesday.
Today, I forgot Luke at school when I picked up Brennan. I remembered fifty other things: his blanket, his jacket, his Star Wars spaceship, his artwork and notes home, but I forgot the damn webkinz. Unfortunately for me, we didn't realize Luke was missing until right before bed. Thus, it was too late to run over to the school and bring Luke home to Brennan.
Bedtime did not go well tonight. Brennan screamed, howled and yelled at full volume for a good ten minutes. He moved on to a keening cry "I want my webkinz" repeated several hundred times until we could talk him down. I had just calmed him down to a reasonable level when Aidan walked into Brennan's room, seemingly to give a sympathetic smile to his brother, but did so while gleefully throwing his webkinz, "Ben", from arm to arm to remind Brennan of what he had lost.
And then the whole breakdown started all over again. I banished Aidan and Ben, calmed Brennan down and gave him four other stuffed animals to sleep with for the night.
Let's all say a collective prayer that Luke is safe and sound at school in the morning or there may be hell to pay. (Thank God Chris has drop off duties tomorrow morning.)
In other Tuesday news, Aidan's class went on a field trip to a working farm today. His favorite parts of the trip were, "milking the goat" because the milk "was really warm" and "walking through all that poop and pee." He also told me next time he should probably wear boots to the farm, because "wow, there really is a lot of poop and pee." Our valuable tuition dollars at work.
And that, in a nutshell, is our Tuesday.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
The Cuteness of Matching Shirts
Mother's Day is just one more excuse to dress the boys in matching shirts. Because, really, how cute is that?
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Let's Torture the Moms
It's that time of year - that fabulous time of year when the schools like to celebrate the moms by asking their children silly little questions in hopes of conjuring up witty preschool answers. And then displaying those answers for all to see... and ridicule.. and thank goodness it wasn't their kid.
Happy Mother’s Day everybody.
This year, Brennan’s answers to his school's Mother’s Day questions could have been worse. But still. They also could have been a bit better.
My mom really likes to….. “watch television.” (When do I get to watch television with three children five and under? When exactly? I figure all the other mothers are shaking their heads at poor Brennan and his lazy, tv watching mommy.)
My mom makes the best…. “grilled cheese.” (The boys used to think I make the best macaroni and cheese, but lately they have been preferring Daddy’s mac n’ cheese as “wayyy better than Mommy’s”. Chris thought this was a victory of sorts and lauded it over me for a few weeks until I finally told him I had been hiding pureed butternut squash in my mac n’ cheese. Ha. Mine may not taste as good, but it’s WAY more nutritious.)
My mom …. “reads me stories” the best. (Okay, I almost forgave him for the watching tv comment because at least he acknowledged the presence of books in our household. )
As always though, it could be worse. I could be the mommy that really likes to “go to work.” I could be the mommy that really likes to “go to the gym.” (At least that mommy probably has a nicer bottom than the lazy tv-watching mommy.) I could be the mommy that “works all day long” the best. Or lastly the mommy who “exercises” the best.
Hmmm, lots of hard workers and exerciser mommies in Brennan’s class. Interesting. This may account for my lack of bonding with this group of Moms.
Anyway. Tomorrow I will celebrate the cusp of Mother’s Day weekend with a doctor’s appointment for Griffin, a Mother’s Day tea at Aidan’s school, a dentist’s appointment for Aidan, a Mother’s Day tea at Brennan and Griffin’s school and lastly, soccer for Aidan. My Fridays off are very relaxing. Just think, I could be watching tv.
But tonight I celebrated Mother's Day be meeting a group of girlfriends for dinner after work at my all time favorite restaurant Left Bank. And that is a truly a Happy Mother's Day to me.
Happy Mother’s Day everybody.
This year, Brennan’s answers to his school's Mother’s Day questions could have been worse. But still. They also could have been a bit better.
My mom really likes to….. “watch television.” (When do I get to watch television with three children five and under? When exactly? I figure all the other mothers are shaking their heads at poor Brennan and his lazy, tv watching mommy.)
My mom makes the best…. “grilled cheese.” (The boys used to think I make the best macaroni and cheese, but lately they have been preferring Daddy’s mac n’ cheese as “wayyy better than Mommy’s”. Chris thought this was a victory of sorts and lauded it over me for a few weeks until I finally told him I had been hiding pureed butternut squash in my mac n’ cheese. Ha. Mine may not taste as good, but it’s WAY more nutritious.)
My mom …. “reads me stories” the best. (Okay, I almost forgave him for the watching tv comment because at least he acknowledged the presence of books in our household. )
As always though, it could be worse. I could be the mommy that really likes to “go to work.” I could be the mommy that really likes to “go to the gym.” (At least that mommy probably has a nicer bottom than the lazy tv-watching mommy.) I could be the mommy that “works all day long” the best. Or lastly the mommy who “exercises” the best.
Hmmm, lots of hard workers and exerciser mommies in Brennan’s class. Interesting. This may account for my lack of bonding with this group of Moms.
Anyway. Tomorrow I will celebrate the cusp of Mother’s Day weekend with a doctor’s appointment for Griffin, a Mother’s Day tea at Aidan’s school, a dentist’s appointment for Aidan, a Mother’s Day tea at Brennan and Griffin’s school and lastly, soccer for Aidan. My Fridays off are very relaxing. Just think, I could be watching tv.
But tonight I celebrated Mother's Day be meeting a group of girlfriends for dinner after work at my all time favorite restaurant Left Bank. And that is a truly a Happy Mother's Day to me.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
The Glow of Religion
Aidan asked me for fifty cents before school on Monday. Before I gave it to him, I asked him why he needed it.
"With fifty cents, I can buy a rosary, Mom." He replied, excited.
"A what?" I asked, certain I hadn't heard him right.
"A rosary!"
Huh. I guess I did hear him right. Color me surprised that my five year old boy was requesting extra change to buy his first set of rosary beads.
He brought them home from school yesterday, thrilled to show off his new beads and explain to me all the intricacies of prayer with a rosary. (The wonders of a catholic education, right?) A few hours later, I caught Aidan and Brennan hiding in Brennan's closet in the dark.
As I get closer I heard, "Look Brennan it glows. Do you see?"
"I see Aidan, I see!"
I opened the closet door to two pairs of eyes peering at me from the darkness. In Aidan's hands, the rosary gleamed bright neon green.
My son's first rosary is a neon glow in the dark special. I couldn't stop laughing for ten minutes. The boys were enraptured with the glow in the dark beads and spent most of the afternoon hiding in dark spaces to watch it light up.
I guess that's one way to encourage prayer among the kindergarten set.
"With fifty cents, I can buy a rosary, Mom." He replied, excited.
"A what?" I asked, certain I hadn't heard him right.
"A rosary!"
Huh. I guess I did hear him right. Color me surprised that my five year old boy was requesting extra change to buy his first set of rosary beads.
He brought them home from school yesterday, thrilled to show off his new beads and explain to me all the intricacies of prayer with a rosary. (The wonders of a catholic education, right?) A few hours later, I caught Aidan and Brennan hiding in Brennan's closet in the dark.
As I get closer I heard, "Look Brennan it glows. Do you see?"
"I see Aidan, I see!"
I opened the closet door to two pairs of eyes peering at me from the darkness. In Aidan's hands, the rosary gleamed bright neon green.
My son's first rosary is a neon glow in the dark special. I couldn't stop laughing for ten minutes. The boys were enraptured with the glow in the dark beads and spent most of the afternoon hiding in dark spaces to watch it light up.
I guess that's one way to encourage prayer among the kindergarten set.
Monday, May 05, 2008
PJ Play
Over the winter, I fell into the routine of sending the boys outside to play with their snow pants and jackets thrown over their pajamas. It saved time and prolonged our pajama days.
This morning, I tried to rally Brennan and Griffin to get outside to enjoy this beautiful spring day.
"Let's go upstairs, get dressed and we can go!" I said in my chipper Mom voice.
"Why?" Brennan asked. "Can't I just wear a jacket over this?" He looks down to point at his mismatched batman pj top and superman pj bottom.
It took some serious persuasion powers to get Brennan to throw on some real clothes. I never thought I would say this, but I actually missed his snowsuit this morning.
_________________________________________
Before outside play, Brennan, Griffin and I played a little hide n' seek. Griffin thinks he's hiding if he closes his eyes so he can't see us. I have seen him do this a hundred and one times and it seriously gets cuter every time he does it.
This morning, I tried to rally Brennan and Griffin to get outside to enjoy this beautiful spring day.
"Let's go upstairs, get dressed and we can go!" I said in my chipper Mom voice.
"Why?" Brennan asked. "Can't I just wear a jacket over this?" He looks down to point at his mismatched batman pj top and superman pj bottom.
It took some serious persuasion powers to get Brennan to throw on some real clothes. I never thought I would say this, but I actually missed his snowsuit this morning.
_________________________________________
Before outside play, Brennan, Griffin and I played a little hide n' seek. Griffin thinks he's hiding if he closes his eyes so he can't see us. I have seen him do this a hundred and one times and it seriously gets cuter every time he does it.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Recovering from the Weekend
I am recovering from our weekend today. Our weekend has been jam packed, all good stuff, but I admit I am counting the minutes until nap time so I can catch some snooze myself.
A recap? Friday: Opening day for the spring soccer season in Whoville. Game on, people. I wish I could accurately depict the mania of soccer in our little town, but I can't. You have to see it to believe it. There are close to 300 kiddies in Kindergarten and 1st grade registered to play. It is not only a soccer game, but a social scene for the parents. Anyone and everyone from whoville with a child spends quite alot of quality time at the soccer fields. It gets so crazy - that whoville has a police officer directing traffic when the games let out. (The traffic full of SUVs and minivans gets a little intense for our little suburban parts.)
We celebrated pregame with a little pizza, our friends Christine and Dylan and their girls. The kiddies looked adorable all decked out in their soccer uniforms and shin guards. (Of course, Chris caught that I had actually put Aidan's shin guards on outside of his socks, rather than inside. I have a little work to do as a soccer mom.)
After soccer, Chris and I did bath and bedtime for the boys. We gussied ourselves up and headed to a cocktail party at a neighbors house. I told our babysitter we'd be an hour. Three hours later and I had barely glanced at the clock. Oops! Good conversation, yummy food and adult drinks make for a quick passage of time.
Saturday was the big day for Chris. We scored 9th row center seats at the concert of Chris's all time favorite band - the Police. As an added bonus, Elvis Costello was the opener.
We were excited by the prospect of 9th row seats, but the reality outdid even our high expectations. The seats were amazing. The band was unbelievable. It was probably one of the best concerts I have ever attended. All around, just a great time.
But now, back to real life. Chris had an exceptionally early tee time for golf this morning. He was up and out before the boys awoke. I was reluctant to drag my tired, aging, sorry self out of bed. Aidan tried to get me up, unsuccessfully, at 6:20 a.m., 6:40 a.m., and then finally, at 6:50 told me in frustration, "Mom, you have to get up. Brennan is crying and Griffin is screaming for you." He then bounced on my bed for emphasis to make sure I was really, truly up.
Thank God for coffee and the wonders of caffeine. Otherwise, I wouldn't even make it until nap time. But it looks like I made it. Hurray for nap time! Now I have to go see about that little snooze.
A recap? Friday: Opening day for the spring soccer season in Whoville. Game on, people. I wish I could accurately depict the mania of soccer in our little town, but I can't. You have to see it to believe it. There are close to 300 kiddies in Kindergarten and 1st grade registered to play. It is not only a soccer game, but a social scene for the parents. Anyone and everyone from whoville with a child spends quite alot of quality time at the soccer fields. It gets so crazy - that whoville has a police officer directing traffic when the games let out. (The traffic full of SUVs and minivans gets a little intense for our little suburban parts.)
We celebrated pregame with a little pizza, our friends Christine and Dylan and their girls. The kiddies looked adorable all decked out in their soccer uniforms and shin guards. (Of course, Chris caught that I had actually put Aidan's shin guards on outside of his socks, rather than inside. I have a little work to do as a soccer mom.)
After soccer, Chris and I did bath and bedtime for the boys. We gussied ourselves up and headed to a cocktail party at a neighbors house. I told our babysitter we'd be an hour. Three hours later and I had barely glanced at the clock. Oops! Good conversation, yummy food and adult drinks make for a quick passage of time.
Saturday was the big day for Chris. We scored 9th row center seats at the concert of Chris's all time favorite band - the Police. As an added bonus, Elvis Costello was the opener.
We were excited by the prospect of 9th row seats, but the reality outdid even our high expectations. The seats were amazing. The band was unbelievable. It was probably one of the best concerts I have ever attended. All around, just a great time.
But now, back to real life. Chris had an exceptionally early tee time for golf this morning. He was up and out before the boys awoke. I was reluctant to drag my tired, aging, sorry self out of bed. Aidan tried to get me up, unsuccessfully, at 6:20 a.m., 6:40 a.m., and then finally, at 6:50 told me in frustration, "Mom, you have to get up. Brennan is crying and Griffin is screaming for you." He then bounced on my bed for emphasis to make sure I was really, truly up.
Thank God for coffee and the wonders of caffeine. Otherwise, I wouldn't even make it until nap time. But it looks like I made it. Hurray for nap time! Now I have to go see about that little snooze.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
In Pursuit of Balance
Yesterday, I was a panelist for a forum on Making Part Time Work in Law by the Women's Bar Association. There were four panelists and all of us had varying reduced hours arrangements in our legal fields. It was interesting to hear the differences in our schedules and work structures. It made me realize there are so many solutions to creating flexibility as part of a legal career. Unfortunately, it is a solution so often missed by the powers that be - which accounts for women leaving law firms in record numbers despite women now accounting for more than half of law school graduates.
One of the recurring themes of the panel was the pursuit of balance. I think we all agreed that balance remains elusive for every mom. For me, just when I think I have reached a point of balance and ease in my life is just when things get interesting. Yesterday, I believed I had it all together. We were all up and out of the house ahead of schedule. I confered with Aidan's teacher on homeroom parent responsibilities prework and headed to work to arrive on time. I spoke (in complete sentences and without interruptions!) to a room of peers about my career. After work, the kiddies were happy. The hubbie was happy. All was good. I had balance.
Then there is today. This morning, Chris and I wasted twenty minutes tearing apart the house looking for Aidan's school folder with the field trip permission slips I had carefully signed and tucked away for school the night before. Chris finally found it. In the garage. In a bag of garbage. Apparently, I had signed the permission slips, put the money for the field trips in an envelope, wrote a note to Aidan's teacher - placed them all in the folder and then TOSSED IT ALL IN THE GARBAGE on top of the coffee grounds and the urine soaked diapers. I have no idea. None. Then I lost my car keys. After another ten minutes of searching, I leave for work (now late), plop my coffee on the center console so I can get my bag in my car and promptly knock the coffee over into the back seat spilling all over the floor.
I would run inside and grab some paper towels or napkins to clean up the coffee slowly soaking into my car's interior, but I remembered we have absolutely no paper products left in our house. NONE. (except for a few rolls of toilet paper.) Because this week, I remembered to buy three different kinds of juice boxes, but I forgot all about the napkins n' stuff. So instead, I used one of the kids' sweatshirts left in the car to hastily clean up the spill as best I can.
During the day, I get two calls from the boys' school because Brennan is having a hay fever attack with swollen eyes. I then battle the guilt of leaving my son with swollen eyes and stuffy nose at school, but weigh it against the impossibility of leaving work to pick up my child because of a sensitivity to pollen. After work, the boys are in true Wednesday cranky form - and manage to cry or whine or fight just about every second I have with them right up until bed.
Now the boys are asleep. And I know for sure, I have no balance. I have good days, bad days and alot of days that fall somewhere in between. But on most days, we are happy. On most days, we make it work. I guess that is balanced enough for me.
One of the recurring themes of the panel was the pursuit of balance. I think we all agreed that balance remains elusive for every mom. For me, just when I think I have reached a point of balance and ease in my life is just when things get interesting. Yesterday, I believed I had it all together. We were all up and out of the house ahead of schedule. I confered with Aidan's teacher on homeroom parent responsibilities prework and headed to work to arrive on time. I spoke (in complete sentences and without interruptions!) to a room of peers about my career. After work, the kiddies were happy. The hubbie was happy. All was good. I had balance.
Then there is today. This morning, Chris and I wasted twenty minutes tearing apart the house looking for Aidan's school folder with the field trip permission slips I had carefully signed and tucked away for school the night before. Chris finally found it. In the garage. In a bag of garbage. Apparently, I had signed the permission slips, put the money for the field trips in an envelope, wrote a note to Aidan's teacher - placed them all in the folder and then TOSSED IT ALL IN THE GARBAGE on top of the coffee grounds and the urine soaked diapers. I have no idea. None. Then I lost my car keys. After another ten minutes of searching, I leave for work (now late), plop my coffee on the center console so I can get my bag in my car and promptly knock the coffee over into the back seat spilling all over the floor.
I would run inside and grab some paper towels or napkins to clean up the coffee slowly soaking into my car's interior, but I remembered we have absolutely no paper products left in our house. NONE. (except for a few rolls of toilet paper.) Because this week, I remembered to buy three different kinds of juice boxes, but I forgot all about the napkins n' stuff. So instead, I used one of the kids' sweatshirts left in the car to hastily clean up the spill as best I can.
During the day, I get two calls from the boys' school because Brennan is having a hay fever attack with swollen eyes. I then battle the guilt of leaving my son with swollen eyes and stuffy nose at school, but weigh it against the impossibility of leaving work to pick up my child because of a sensitivity to pollen. After work, the boys are in true Wednesday cranky form - and manage to cry or whine or fight just about every second I have with them right up until bed.
Now the boys are asleep. And I know for sure, I have no balance. I have good days, bad days and alot of days that fall somewhere in between. But on most days, we are happy. On most days, we make it work. I guess that is balanced enough for me.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
My Boston Baked Bean
Chris and I are stumped on how in the world Brennan has developed a strong Boston/New Englander accent when the only time he has been to the New England region was the trip to Cape Cod we took when he was in utero. But, strangely enough – it’s there.
He is wicked at “pahking his cahs in the Hahvid Yahd” despite the fact he has spent his life in Upstate New York. Sometimes, his accent almost sounds like he is from Brooklyn, but nine times out of ten – he sounds like a little Boston Baked Bean hanging out at Faneuil Hall.
He is wicked at “pahking his cahs in the Hahvid Yahd” despite the fact he has spent his life in Upstate New York. Sometimes, his accent almost sounds like he is from Brooklyn, but nine times out of ten – he sounds like a little Boston Baked Bean hanging out at Faneuil Hall.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Vacation Hangover
Before children, I returned from vacation refreshed, well rested and energized. I was rejuvenated to push forward with life, gleaming with health and sleep.
After children, you do not return from vacation refreshed, well rested and energized. (Well, you do if you managed to vacation without your kiddies or with a full time nanny. Unfortunately, neither apply to my life.)
Vacationing with children is sort of like going on an all night, bender of a party in your college days. You enjoy it while you're doing it. (All those shots of tequila go down REAL easy... Hmmm, okay at least they did for me.) But, the next morning you feel like crap. You're tired and headachy and grumpy. You are confronted with a hang over of nightmare proportions.
My lovely vacation in Florida with my kiddies was great. We loved the beach. We all had a fantastic time. But reentry into normal life has left us all with a bitch of a vacation hangover. I have huge bags under my eyes brought on by an eight day sleep drought. I am grumpy. I am physically exhausted. Even worse, the kiddies are hung over too. They are beyond tired. Their behavior is an abomination. And the tantrums are coming fast and furious.
In short, we are not an attractive family right now. We are coming dangerously close to being like those families you see featured on Super Nanny. It is not good.
My only remedy for our family hangover may be an early bed tonight for the boys and margaritas for Chris and me. It may not be a long term solution, but it might just help push us over the hump.
After children, you do not return from vacation refreshed, well rested and energized. (Well, you do if you managed to vacation without your kiddies or with a full time nanny. Unfortunately, neither apply to my life.)
Vacationing with children is sort of like going on an all night, bender of a party in your college days. You enjoy it while you're doing it. (All those shots of tequila go down REAL easy... Hmmm, okay at least they did for me.) But, the next morning you feel like crap. You're tired and headachy and grumpy. You are confronted with a hang over of nightmare proportions.
My lovely vacation in Florida with my kiddies was great. We loved the beach. We all had a fantastic time. But reentry into normal life has left us all with a bitch of a vacation hangover. I have huge bags under my eyes brought on by an eight day sleep drought. I am grumpy. I am physically exhausted. Even worse, the kiddies are hung over too. They are beyond tired. Their behavior is an abomination. And the tantrums are coming fast and furious.
In short, we are not an attractive family right now. We are coming dangerously close to being like those families you see featured on Super Nanny. It is not good.
My only remedy for our family hangover may be an early bed tonight for the boys and margaritas for Chris and me. It may not be a long term solution, but it might just help push us over the hump.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Nothing Like a Beach Vacation
There is no family vacation like a beach vacation. The beach makes it all worth it. It isn’t easy to travel with small children, let alone three boys five and under. But, give me seven days on a beach surrounded by my children, white sand, blue waters and warm sun – and well, we can survive the traveling part.
The boys loved the annual jaunt to Florida – sand to dig, waves to surf, shells to be found. The boys hit the beach the moment we arrived with enthusiasm despite the slightly chilly air and rough waves. Griffin watched the waves for a minute and then ran as fast as his little legs could carry him straight into the surf. He was promptly knocked over by a wave and came up sputtering salt water. He spent the next few days trying to dodge the water encroaching upon his beach territory, but soon enough he was running right back into the surf, eager to skip in the waves with his brothers.
Our first few days on vacation we had the company of my cousins Liam and Nicole. My cousins love to be with my boys and spent hours digging, running and amusing them. They also introduced Chris and I to our new addiction: Guitar Hero. After the boys were in bed, we spent hours in rock star showdowns. I finally had to admit defeat to Chris as he moved on to the intermediate level, while I stayed behind as a beginner guitar rocker. (Of course, my cousins wowed us all with their expert level maneuvers. Oh to be thirteen again!)
On day two of vacation, the sun and warmth returned with the Gulf of Mexico as clear and glassy as a aqua blue lake. The waves were barely ripples across the surface of the water. We spent the morning hunting sand dollars. Liam bested us all with the seven he uncovered on the ocean floor. I was proud of my one discovery! Aidan and Brennan found pieces of coral and clams – all saved to bring home to show their friends at school.
We spent every day digging a giant ditch close to the waves where the boys would play and build. The ditch would become a man made tidal pool as the incoming waves filled it up with water. Griffin would plant himself into this pool for hours, content to splash and run his fingers through the sand. Aidan and Brennan amused themselves by surfing the softer waves. They ran to and from the water trying to jump over the edge of the tide. Brennan even came up with quite a spectacular routine for the water’s edge involving spins and jumps and sideways somersaults all capped off with a dramatic kick and punch at the water. His routine was appropriately named the: Mr. Incredible Routine. I asked him to perform his dance for us again and again. It only got funnier each time he did it. (Trust me: you have to see it to believe it.)
We enjoyed quality time with my grandparents and my mother (Grandma JoJo), who joined us for a few days. Aidan and my grandfather may be made for each other. Aidan can ask any question and my grandfather will always come up with a thoughtful and factual answer. I had tears in my eyes to see Griffin cuddled up with both of my grandparents so readily and easily. My grandmother spoiled us all with her homemade sauce and meatballs. (We begged to eat leftovers for two nights straight.) And the boys loved the chance to torture Grandma JoJo with some quality time amongst the waves.
The only thing we didn’t get to enjoy all that much? Sleep. The five of us shared one room, rotating Aidan and Brennan from an air mattress on the floor to the middle of the bed with Chris and me. Aidan is a kicker, a snorer and a teeth grinder. On the nights he was in bed with us, I barely slept a wink. Brennan, on the other hand, is great – once he manages to sleep. He kept the other two boys awake each night with his singing and playing and story telling. That boy does. not. sleep. Griffin did his part to encourage the sleep boycott by waking us all up at 5 a.m. every morning. I never knew that a vacation with children meant I would need a vacation to recover from the vacation.
The travels home were long. We remembered to keep a sense of humor when Griffin got a little car sick in the back seat and threw up on the way to the airport. We laughed when Brennan spent twenty minutes yelling his stomach hurt and he had to go poopie in the car, only to let out the most giant man-sized burp. (Brennan’s response after the burp? “Huh, now I feel better. Momma, I guess I don’t have to go poopie at all.”) We managed to keep good cheer as we ran from the end of one terminal to the end of another terminal trying to make our tight connection. (Okay, okay, I may have threatened the boys to pick up their pace or else we were going to have to sleep at the airport.) But my personal favorite of the trip home was turning to Aidan during the safety demonstration on the airplane and seeing him reading the airline safety card. At my inquisitive look, he said, “What? They told us to review it. I’m reviewing it. Would you like to review it with me?” (My second favorite moment of the trip home was Brennan watching Scooby Doo with headphones on and singing along to the theme song, not realizing that the whole plane could hear him.)
But now, it is back to reality. Chris and I worked today, the boys were back at school and there are buckets of dirty, sandy clothes strewn around the house. At least, I have the pictures of vacation to comfort me.
The boys loved the annual jaunt to Florida – sand to dig, waves to surf, shells to be found. The boys hit the beach the moment we arrived with enthusiasm despite the slightly chilly air and rough waves. Griffin watched the waves for a minute and then ran as fast as his little legs could carry him straight into the surf. He was promptly knocked over by a wave and came up sputtering salt water. He spent the next few days trying to dodge the water encroaching upon his beach territory, but soon enough he was running right back into the surf, eager to skip in the waves with his brothers.
Our first few days on vacation we had the company of my cousins Liam and Nicole. My cousins love to be with my boys and spent hours digging, running and amusing them. They also introduced Chris and I to our new addiction: Guitar Hero. After the boys were in bed, we spent hours in rock star showdowns. I finally had to admit defeat to Chris as he moved on to the intermediate level, while I stayed behind as a beginner guitar rocker. (Of course, my cousins wowed us all with their expert level maneuvers. Oh to be thirteen again!)
On day two of vacation, the sun and warmth returned with the Gulf of Mexico as clear and glassy as a aqua blue lake. The waves were barely ripples across the surface of the water. We spent the morning hunting sand dollars. Liam bested us all with the seven he uncovered on the ocean floor. I was proud of my one discovery! Aidan and Brennan found pieces of coral and clams – all saved to bring home to show their friends at school.
We spent every day digging a giant ditch close to the waves where the boys would play and build. The ditch would become a man made tidal pool as the incoming waves filled it up with water. Griffin would plant himself into this pool for hours, content to splash and run his fingers through the sand. Aidan and Brennan amused themselves by surfing the softer waves. They ran to and from the water trying to jump over the edge of the tide. Brennan even came up with quite a spectacular routine for the water’s edge involving spins and jumps and sideways somersaults all capped off with a dramatic kick and punch at the water. His routine was appropriately named the: Mr. Incredible Routine. I asked him to perform his dance for us again and again. It only got funnier each time he did it. (Trust me: you have to see it to believe it.)
We enjoyed quality time with my grandparents and my mother (Grandma JoJo), who joined us for a few days. Aidan and my grandfather may be made for each other. Aidan can ask any question and my grandfather will always come up with a thoughtful and factual answer. I had tears in my eyes to see Griffin cuddled up with both of my grandparents so readily and easily. My grandmother spoiled us all with her homemade sauce and meatballs. (We begged to eat leftovers for two nights straight.) And the boys loved the chance to torture Grandma JoJo with some quality time amongst the waves.
The only thing we didn’t get to enjoy all that much? Sleep. The five of us shared one room, rotating Aidan and Brennan from an air mattress on the floor to the middle of the bed with Chris and me. Aidan is a kicker, a snorer and a teeth grinder. On the nights he was in bed with us, I barely slept a wink. Brennan, on the other hand, is great – once he manages to sleep. He kept the other two boys awake each night with his singing and playing and story telling. That boy does. not. sleep. Griffin did his part to encourage the sleep boycott by waking us all up at 5 a.m. every morning. I never knew that a vacation with children meant I would need a vacation to recover from the vacation.
The travels home were long. We remembered to keep a sense of humor when Griffin got a little car sick in the back seat and threw up on the way to the airport. We laughed when Brennan spent twenty minutes yelling his stomach hurt and he had to go poopie in the car, only to let out the most giant man-sized burp. (Brennan’s response after the burp? “Huh, now I feel better. Momma, I guess I don’t have to go poopie at all.”) We managed to keep good cheer as we ran from the end of one terminal to the end of another terminal trying to make our tight connection. (Okay, okay, I may have threatened the boys to pick up their pace or else we were going to have to sleep at the airport.) But my personal favorite of the trip home was turning to Aidan during the safety demonstration on the airplane and seeing him reading the airline safety card. At my inquisitive look, he said, “What? They told us to review it. I’m reviewing it. Would you like to review it with me?” (My second favorite moment of the trip home was Brennan watching Scooby Doo with headphones on and singing along to the theme song, not realizing that the whole plane could hear him.)
But now, it is back to reality. Chris and I worked today, the boys were back at school and there are buckets of dirty, sandy clothes strewn around the house. At least, I have the pictures of vacation to comfort me.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Googling
The last two people who happened upon my blog via the search super powers of Google were searching the terms "boogers in swimming pool" and/or "holding pee during school." This makes me feel like my life is truly fabulous.
Nothing to see here people but boogers and pee. Nothing at all.
Nothing to see here people but boogers and pee. Nothing at all.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Meet the Incredibles
Brennan is a little addicted to the movie The Incredibles. I am ashamed to say he can now recite the movie by heart and often you will find him whispering the lines right along with the characters as he watches the movie with rapt attention. His obsession has spread to his requiring us to refer to him not as Brennan, but as Mr. Incredible. He not only goes by the name Mr. Incredible, but he really, truly believes he has become Mr. Incredible. In fact, he spends a lot of time going around the house trying to prove how strong he is – just like Mr. Incredible - by lifting up a lot of our furniture. This means I spend a lot of time begging Brennan to “please put down the ottoman already Brennan okay?”
As part of the Incredibles obsession, we have all been assigned parts. Aidan is Fro-Zone, or as Aidan likes to call him, “Mr. Freeze Man.” Griffin has been assigned the role of “Dash.” I am told I am “ElastiGirl.” (My assigned character led to a long drawn out discussion among me and my sons because they were concerned that, perhaps, I would prefer to be Violet, because, you know, Violet can disappear and that is very cool. But ElastiGirl can stretch very, very far and that is cool too and she is the mom, so it was determined I must be ElastiGirl.)
When Chris returned from his business trip last week, the boys informed him he must also be a character from the Incredibles. (The family that pretends together stays together, right?).
After thinking about it for a moment, Chris said, “I’ll be Mr. Incredible!”
The boys shook their heads in unison as Brennan scoffed at Chris and said with fervor, “I am Mr. Incredible, Daddy.”
“Oh, well, then I’ll be Fro-Zone!”
“No, no, no – Aidan is Fro-Zone, Daddy!” Brennan exclaimed.
“Dash?”
“Nope, that’s Griffin.” Aidan said pointing to Griffin.
Chris looks over to me for some assistance. I laugh and shake my head.
“How about the baby Dad? Do you want to be the Baby?” Aidan asks with seriousness.
Chris looks mildly offended. “No, I don’t want to be the baby!”
Brennan looks thoughtful and then yells, “I know! You can be the thwreat.”
“Who?” We all ask.
“The Thwreat! The Thwreat!” Brennan yells back.
No matter how many times he repeats it, we still had no idea what he was talking about.
The next day Brennan and I are (once again) watching the Incredibles. The movie’s antagonist/ bad guy “Buddy” appears on the screen. Immediately, Brennan points to the television and yells to me, “There! There’s Daddy! The thwreat! He’s the thwreat. See, mommy? The thwreat!”
Oh, the Threat. I laugh so hard tears pour from my eyes.
As part of the Incredibles obsession, we have all been assigned parts. Aidan is Fro-Zone, or as Aidan likes to call him, “Mr. Freeze Man.” Griffin has been assigned the role of “Dash.” I am told I am “ElastiGirl.” (My assigned character led to a long drawn out discussion among me and my sons because they were concerned that, perhaps, I would prefer to be Violet, because, you know, Violet can disappear and that is very cool. But ElastiGirl can stretch very, very far and that is cool too and she is the mom, so it was determined I must be ElastiGirl.)
When Chris returned from his business trip last week, the boys informed him he must also be a character from the Incredibles. (The family that pretends together stays together, right?).
After thinking about it for a moment, Chris said, “I’ll be Mr. Incredible!”
The boys shook their heads in unison as Brennan scoffed at Chris and said with fervor, “I am Mr. Incredible, Daddy.”
“Oh, well, then I’ll be Fro-Zone!”
“No, no, no – Aidan is Fro-Zone, Daddy!” Brennan exclaimed.
“Dash?”
“Nope, that’s Griffin.” Aidan said pointing to Griffin.
Chris looks over to me for some assistance. I laugh and shake my head.
“How about the baby Dad? Do you want to be the Baby?” Aidan asks with seriousness.
Chris looks mildly offended. “No, I don’t want to be the baby!”
Brennan looks thoughtful and then yells, “I know! You can be the thwreat.”
“Who?” We all ask.
“The Thwreat! The Thwreat!” Brennan yells back.
No matter how many times he repeats it, we still had no idea what he was talking about.
The next day Brennan and I are (once again) watching the Incredibles. The movie’s antagonist/ bad guy “Buddy” appears on the screen. Immediately, Brennan points to the television and yells to me, “There! There’s Daddy! The thwreat! He’s the thwreat. See, mommy? The thwreat!”
Oh, the Threat. I laugh so hard tears pour from my eyes.
Friday, April 11, 2008
The Spiderman Popsicle
We have our annual trip to Florida coming up. I have a million and one things to do. Things to pack. Things to buy. Laundry to wash. Clothes to organize. Hair to be cut. I was at home with the boys on Thursday, rather than working, thanks to my going into the office on Monday. I figured I could knock off my to do list one by one - and have it all done by the end of the day. Game on.
Instead of packing, we spent the morning outside collecting rocks and analyzing drains residing in the mile radius around hour house. We collected a lot of rocks. Who knew there were so many drains? I figured I could recapture my productivity during nap time.
The joke was on me because no one napped. Aidan got off the bus from school and I figured we could at least cross hair cuts of my list. Hair cuts done. We stopped for ice cream. Brennan opted for some over processed, over dyed, manufactured spider man ice cream Popsicle instead of just a normal ice cream cone. I should have said no. I should have pushed him towards some normal Perry's ice cream. I didn't.
And that is how we came to spend our Thursday evening in the Emergency Room.
Brennan had an allergic reaction to the over processed goodness of that damn Popsicle. He started coughing, and at first, we thought he was faking. (I need to write that again. WE THOUGHT HE WAS FAKING.) It took some serious wheezing and some nice face swelling to bring it home for us. (We are parental geniuses us! We are!)
Brennan stayed calm throughout the whole allergy attack, the probing by the nurses and doctors, and in the face of his mother's hysteria. He even managed to maintain his composure while he vomited all over the hospital waiting room. (Hi Ms. E.R. nurse? When parents yell they need a bucket? Yeah, we need it like NOW, not in ten minutes, Okay?)
After an eternity in the waiting room and then the examining room, my sweet little three year old turned to me with swollen eyes, a little red puffy face and through his wheezing garbled to me, "Mom, this is taking forevah!"
It did take forever, but he is good and recovered now. I am terrified every time he eats, scared it will happen again. We knew there was a strong possibility one (or all) of our kids would have to deal with allergies, thanks to Chris's childhood of an allergy to, well, practically anything and everything. But this still threw me for a loop. A big, scary, terrifying loop.
Instead of packing, we spent the morning outside collecting rocks and analyzing drains residing in the mile radius around hour house. We collected a lot of rocks. Who knew there were so many drains? I figured I could recapture my productivity during nap time.
The joke was on me because no one napped. Aidan got off the bus from school and I figured we could at least cross hair cuts of my list. Hair cuts done. We stopped for ice cream. Brennan opted for some over processed, over dyed, manufactured spider man ice cream Popsicle instead of just a normal ice cream cone. I should have said no. I should have pushed him towards some normal Perry's ice cream. I didn't.
And that is how we came to spend our Thursday evening in the Emergency Room.
Brennan had an allergic reaction to the over processed goodness of that damn Popsicle. He started coughing, and at first, we thought he was faking. (I need to write that again. WE THOUGHT HE WAS FAKING.) It took some serious wheezing and some nice face swelling to bring it home for us. (We are parental geniuses us! We are!)
Brennan stayed calm throughout the whole allergy attack, the probing by the nurses and doctors, and in the face of his mother's hysteria. He even managed to maintain his composure while he vomited all over the hospital waiting room. (Hi Ms. E.R. nurse? When parents yell they need a bucket? Yeah, we need it like NOW, not in ten minutes, Okay?)
After an eternity in the waiting room and then the examining room, my sweet little three year old turned to me with swollen eyes, a little red puffy face and through his wheezing garbled to me, "Mom, this is taking forevah!"
It did take forever, but he is good and recovered now. I am terrified every time he eats, scared it will happen again. We knew there was a strong possibility one (or all) of our kids would have to deal with allergies, thanks to Chris's childhood of an allergy to, well, practically anything and everything. But this still threw me for a loop. A big, scary, terrifying loop.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Attack of the Urine
As I walk past the boys’ bathroom, I notice Brennan standing about a foot away from the toilet attempting to go to the bathroom. While he has managed to pull down his pants, he has his shirt pulled down to the top of his legs. I stop, let out a frustrated sigh and say, “Brennan!”
Brennan nonchalantly turns to look at me with his hands on his hips and pants down around his ankles. After a beat, he asks, “What?”
“You just peed all over the place. It’s all over the floor, you, and your t-shirt! You need to stand closer to the toilet! At least attempt some aim! And pull up your shirt!”
Brennan shrugs his shoulders and looks over at the toilet, “Well, I got some of it in, didn’t I?”
This is payback for every time I complained about my brothers’ atrocious bathroom habits when we were growing up. Karma has bitten me in the ass and given me three boys with the ability to pee far and wide, but with horrible aim. I see many years of cleaning up urine in my future. Many, many years.
Brennan nonchalantly turns to look at me with his hands on his hips and pants down around his ankles. After a beat, he asks, “What?”
“You just peed all over the place. It’s all over the floor, you, and your t-shirt! You need to stand closer to the toilet! At least attempt some aim! And pull up your shirt!”
Brennan shrugs his shoulders and looks over at the toilet, “Well, I got some of it in, didn’t I?”
This is payback for every time I complained about my brothers’ atrocious bathroom habits when we were growing up. Karma has bitten me in the ass and given me three boys with the ability to pee far and wide, but with horrible aim. I see many years of cleaning up urine in my future. Many, many years.
Monday, April 07, 2008
A Rant on Stereotypes
I am attempting to plow through the paperwork required to reregister Brennan and Griffin for daycare next year. As part of the student information sheet, the form asks I fill in name, employment and contact information for each parent. In the slot for the mother’s information, the form requests the mother’s cell phone and home phone. In the slot for the father’s information, the form requests the father’s cell phone and work phone.
How in the hell would the daycare center get in touch with me at home when I am at work? Why is it they assume the mother should be contacted either at home or via cell, while the father has the option of a work contact? And is it wrong that this annoys me so very much?
I am just as annoyed by Aidan’s school and the whole “homeroom mother” label. Why is it this is a post geared for mothers and not fathers? Is there a reason we can’t call it the “homeroom parent”? (I swear, I am going to sign Chris up to be the homeroom parent some year just to make a point of it. Yes, I probably will end up doing most of the freakin’ work, but it’s the POINT of it.) I refuse to call myself Aidan’s homeroom mother. I am a homeroom PARENT. Perhaps the fathers would be more willing to sign up for the job if we dropped the whole “mother” requirement.
It also offends me how some of the volunteer coordinators at Aidan's school bend over backwards when Chris signs up to volunteer because he is the father, and therefore, he is busy with important work things. We even had a mother who left a message on our home phone apologizing for changes in a volunteer schedule that affected Chris. The gist of her apology was she did not realize when she made the changes that he was the dad, and not the mom, and therefore, he must be busy working and thus, much more inconvenienced.
I resent the implication that school and the navigation of school responsibilities is solely women’s work. It only reinforces traditional gender stereotypes, instead of reflecting the reality of today’s world. I work. My husband works. We both volunteer at school. I may be more involved since I work part time, but we are both involved.
Isn’t it time the labels and forms and attitudes of schools evolved? Am I just making too much of all of this?
How in the hell would the daycare center get in touch with me at home when I am at work? Why is it they assume the mother should be contacted either at home or via cell, while the father has the option of a work contact? And is it wrong that this annoys me so very much?
I am just as annoyed by Aidan’s school and the whole “homeroom mother” label. Why is it this is a post geared for mothers and not fathers? Is there a reason we can’t call it the “homeroom parent”? (I swear, I am going to sign Chris up to be the homeroom parent some year just to make a point of it. Yes, I probably will end up doing most of the freakin’ work, but it’s the POINT of it.) I refuse to call myself Aidan’s homeroom mother. I am a homeroom PARENT. Perhaps the fathers would be more willing to sign up for the job if we dropped the whole “mother” requirement.
It also offends me how some of the volunteer coordinators at Aidan's school bend over backwards when Chris signs up to volunteer because he is the father, and therefore, he is busy with important work things. We even had a mother who left a message on our home phone apologizing for changes in a volunteer schedule that affected Chris. The gist of her apology was she did not realize when she made the changes that he was the dad, and not the mom, and therefore, he must be busy working and thus, much more inconvenienced.
I resent the implication that school and the navigation of school responsibilities is solely women’s work. It only reinforces traditional gender stereotypes, instead of reflecting the reality of today’s world. I work. My husband works. We both volunteer at school. I may be more involved since I work part time, but we are both involved.
Isn’t it time the labels and forms and attitudes of schools evolved? Am I just making too much of all of this?
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Back to the Park
I love the first weekend of warmer temperatures and sun. After a long winter, everyone emerges from their homes eager to soak up some sunshine and enjoy the first signs of spring. The boys played outside for most of the day yesterday, loving every minute of the spring air.
This morning we hit the playground for the first time this season. It was a little muddy, but the boys were euphoric to have the chance to climb, swing and dig at the lake's beach for snails and rocks. All this fresh air and activity is also making for a fantastic nap time today - giving all of us another reason to truly appreciate the arrival of warm weather.
This morning we hit the playground for the first time this season. It was a little muddy, but the boys were euphoric to have the chance to climb, swing and dig at the lake's beach for snails and rocks. All this fresh air and activity is also making for a fantastic nap time today - giving all of us another reason to truly appreciate the arrival of warm weather.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
My Practice Baby
I was lucky enough as a child to have a real live doll to practice my mothering technique. My "doll" was born when I was ten years old. I dreamed night after night of the little sister my mother was going to bring home from the hospital to be my playmate. My mother was even convinced she was having a girl. So convinced, in fact, that she promised me if she did not bring home a baby sister for me, then she would take me on a girls only trip to the Bahamas.
Imagine my surprise, then, when my brother Seth and I were told during our Saturday morning viewing of our very favorite show - the Smurfs - that we had a new baby brother. Brother?! I was inconsolable. Boy?! Where's my sister? Where's my girl?! I was now outnumbered two to one. Seth was, needless to say, overjoyed.
A boy was born. My mom named him Travis. I never did get my trip to the Bahamas.
Travis became all our baby. A loveable chubb of a baby with an easy grin, curly locks of brown hair, a little red nose and big hazel eyes full of mischief. Today, that baby turns 26.
Very happy birthday wishes to my youngest brother, Travis. Our baby of the family is good and grown. I wish you a day full of special celebration - and hopefully a Sabres victory to top off your big day.
Now, could you talk to Mom about that trip to the Bahamas she still owes me?
Imagine my surprise, then, when my brother Seth and I were told during our Saturday morning viewing of our very favorite show - the Smurfs - that we had a new baby brother. Brother?! I was inconsolable. Boy?! Where's my sister? Where's my girl?! I was now outnumbered two to one. Seth was, needless to say, overjoyed.
A boy was born. My mom named him Travis. I never did get my trip to the Bahamas.
Travis became all our baby. A loveable chubb of a baby with an easy grin, curly locks of brown hair, a little red nose and big hazel eyes full of mischief. Today, that baby turns 26.
Very happy birthday wishes to my youngest brother, Travis. Our baby of the family is good and grown. I wish you a day full of special celebration - and hopefully a Sabres victory to top off your big day.
Now, could you talk to Mom about that trip to the Bahamas she still owes me?
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
A Sign of Spring
I was up and out of bed before the boys this morning, a rarity in our house in which I have a well deserved reputation as a anti-morning person.
As I sipped my coffee in the kitchen, I heard the soft sound of chirping outside. I was convinced I was hearing things and walked to the windows leading to the backyard to listen closely. The birds were, indeed chirping. Spring may very well have arrived in our frozen neck of the woods.
I went upstairs to wake the boys. After I wrangled them all downstairs, I slid open the back door so we could all listen and watch. Aidan, Brennan, Griffin and I stood in our pjs with the door open wide and just enjoyed the first warmth of spring. The birds whistled and flew. The grass peeked through melting snow. Aidan even pointed out the buds growing on tree branches.
It will probably snow tomorrow, but for a moment this morning, we all really believed spring was here.
As I sipped my coffee in the kitchen, I heard the soft sound of chirping outside. I was convinced I was hearing things and walked to the windows leading to the backyard to listen closely. The birds were, indeed chirping. Spring may very well have arrived in our frozen neck of the woods.
I went upstairs to wake the boys. After I wrangled them all downstairs, I slid open the back door so we could all listen and watch. Aidan, Brennan, Griffin and I stood in our pjs with the door open wide and just enjoyed the first warmth of spring. The birds whistled and flew. The grass peeked through melting snow. Aidan even pointed out the buds growing on tree branches.
It will probably snow tomorrow, but for a moment this morning, we all really believed spring was here.
Monday, March 31, 2008
One
I love one. My children at one are delights. They amaze me with the new words they pick up every day, their new quirks, their developing personalities. I love getting to know them as little people, with likes and dislikes. I love the joy with which they view the world. One is a fantastic age. (My love for this age probably explains how I thought getting pregnant again with a one year old (or a one and a three year old) at home was a good idea. Or I just have a really good sense of humor and a really bad memory.)
Chris and I are in love with Griffin at one. He wakes up with glee and within moments is dancing in the kitchen to a song only he can hear. He spends most of the day hugging each member of our family, grabbing legs or arms or any part of you he can reach to show his love. Each day brings a new word – chair, ball, book, cup, juice, sit, milk, no, momma, daddy, balloon, belly, out, up, down, jump… He loves to show off his belly and if you ask him to touch his nose he prefers to shove his fingers up his nose.
He loves to sit and look at books. His favorite book is Goodnight Moon and if you ask him for “Moon” he will run to the book shelf excited to grab his book and sit on your lap to read it again, and again. And when you get to the part where the old lady speaks in a hush, Griffin will start to whisper in a baby language as if he fears he could wake up the little bunny trying to get to sleep.
Griffin has abandoned his high chair for good, in favor of eating next to his brothers. He refuses to use a sippy cup and must use an identical cup as his big brothers, even if it means that most of his milk ends up on the floor. He will try any and all food – from broccoli to spinach to steak. He eats it and loves it. He has a love affair with Oreos, but if you try to give him only one cookie at a time, he cries because he believes he should have one for each hand.
Griffin will chase Aidan and scream until Aidan sits on the floor just so Griffin could climb up into his big brother’s lap to play. He loves music and will point to my IPOD to tell me to turn on music so he can bust a move. He is desperate to learn how to jump. You will find him alone in a room throwing his arms up in the air and trying to get his little body off the ground. He does it again and again, hoping next time he will do it. He loves to mimic his big brothers, including copying Brennan's giant burp at dinner tonight down to even a "scuze me" tied into the end.
Griffin is a delight. He is a joy. He is a love.
Sometimes I wish I could freeze him at this age and keep him like this forever. My last little baby at one.
Chris and I are in love with Griffin at one. He wakes up with glee and within moments is dancing in the kitchen to a song only he can hear. He spends most of the day hugging each member of our family, grabbing legs or arms or any part of you he can reach to show his love. Each day brings a new word – chair, ball, book, cup, juice, sit, milk, no, momma, daddy, balloon, belly, out, up, down, jump… He loves to show off his belly and if you ask him to touch his nose he prefers to shove his fingers up his nose.
He loves to sit and look at books. His favorite book is Goodnight Moon and if you ask him for “Moon” he will run to the book shelf excited to grab his book and sit on your lap to read it again, and again. And when you get to the part where the old lady speaks in a hush, Griffin will start to whisper in a baby language as if he fears he could wake up the little bunny trying to get to sleep.
Griffin has abandoned his high chair for good, in favor of eating next to his brothers. He refuses to use a sippy cup and must use an identical cup as his big brothers, even if it means that most of his milk ends up on the floor. He will try any and all food – from broccoli to spinach to steak. He eats it and loves it. He has a love affair with Oreos, but if you try to give him only one cookie at a time, he cries because he believes he should have one for each hand.
Griffin will chase Aidan and scream until Aidan sits on the floor just so Griffin could climb up into his big brother’s lap to play. He loves music and will point to my IPOD to tell me to turn on music so he can bust a move. He is desperate to learn how to jump. You will find him alone in a room throwing his arms up in the air and trying to get his little body off the ground. He does it again and again, hoping next time he will do it. He loves to mimic his big brothers, including copying Brennan's giant burp at dinner tonight down to even a "scuze me" tied into the end.
Griffin is a delight. He is a joy. He is a love.
Sometimes I wish I could freeze him at this age and keep him like this forever. My last little baby at one.
Friday, March 28, 2008
How The Mighty Have Fallen
As of today, the flu has fallen all of our family of five. This morning, after he admitted he almost passed out in the shower, Chris turned to me and weakly said, "Strong like bull fall like lamb.
Heh.
It was funny right up until he was bedridden and I was left alone with three sick screaming kids. Then, not so funny. Not at all.
Heh.
It was funny right up until he was bedridden and I was left alone with three sick screaming kids. Then, not so funny. Not at all.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Germs are Giggling at Me
Approximately two weeks ago, I was kicked in the head (and stomach) by a vicious stomach bug for four days straight. When I finally felt better and it looked as if all the kiddies were well again, I jinxed myself by believing once and for all we were set to welcome spring and say goodbye to the season of the flu.
Fuckin’ germs are giggling at me right now as they multiply around my house. All three kids are down and out with sore throats, fevers, chills and the rest of the flu rigmarole. I have also been taken hostage and generally feel like crap. I managed to rally last night just long enough to help Chris get the kiddies in bed and then I was out from 7:30 until 6:30 this morning. (Helped along, I am sure, by my marvelous nightcap of a heaping dose of lovely Nyquil. I heart you Nyquil. You rock my world. Particularly the cherry flavor.)
The only one not to succumb to the vicious flu is my darling husband Chris. This has led to Chris romping around the house in various strong man poses as he yells in a deep voice, “I am strong like bull.” The boys are even saying it now: “Daddy, strong like bull.” Because Mommy can eat her veggies, take a daily vitamin and wash her hands until they crack and bleed but I am still going to contract every fuckin’ virus that hits our house thanks to my germy kiddies.
Bitter, much? Yes, very much so, thanks for asking.
So three kiddies and me sick, sick, sick and is it wrong that what I am really concerned about is my ability to get to my appointment to have my hair cut tomorrow? Because that hair appointment has been like the highlight of MY MONTH and if some runny noses, coughs and sore throats keep me from dying my roots I am NOT going to be a happy camper. Yes, Mother of the year, huh? I like to think so.
Fuckin’ germs are giggling at me right now as they multiply around my house. All three kids are down and out with sore throats, fevers, chills and the rest of the flu rigmarole. I have also been taken hostage and generally feel like crap. I managed to rally last night just long enough to help Chris get the kiddies in bed and then I was out from 7:30 until 6:30 this morning. (Helped along, I am sure, by my marvelous nightcap of a heaping dose of lovely Nyquil. I heart you Nyquil. You rock my world. Particularly the cherry flavor.)
The only one not to succumb to the vicious flu is my darling husband Chris. This has led to Chris romping around the house in various strong man poses as he yells in a deep voice, “I am strong like bull.” The boys are even saying it now: “Daddy, strong like bull.” Because Mommy can eat her veggies, take a daily vitamin and wash her hands until they crack and bleed but I am still going to contract every fuckin’ virus that hits our house thanks to my germy kiddies.
Bitter, much? Yes, very much so, thanks for asking.
So three kiddies and me sick, sick, sick and is it wrong that what I am really concerned about is my ability to get to my appointment to have my hair cut tomorrow? Because that hair appointment has been like the highlight of MY MONTH and if some runny noses, coughs and sore throats keep me from dying my roots I am NOT going to be a happy camper. Yes, Mother of the year, huh? I like to think so.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
The Pants
A conversation Easter morning as Chris and I attempt to wrangle the boys into their Sunday best for the holiday.
Over a howling Griffin, Chris yells to me as I am getting dressed upstairs: "Are these the only khaki pants you have for Griffin?"
Me: "No. But they're brand new. Why?"
Chris: "I can't get them buttoned over his belly. And he hates them. He screams anytime I try to button them."
Me: "What? They are size 2T! They have to fit! He's 15 months old for the love of God."
Chris: "I am telling you - they do not fit over his belly. It's impossible. Do you have any 3T pants I can try?"
At this rate, I am going to have to forget about hand me downs because Aidan, Brennan and Griffin will all be in the same size by the end of the year.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My dear friend Cynthia invited me out for a girl's night at the Sabres game last night. We had a great time over dinner and drinks and even at the abomination that was the hockey game. It was a perfect break from the life of a mom.
It always surprises me though that I return home after being away from the kiddies all day and all night and I miss them so much it hurts. I always creep into each of their rooms to watch them as they sleep for a few minutes. And a part of me always hopes they will roll over, wake up and allow me to give them a hug. None of them did, so I settled with a gentle kiss goodnight on their sleeping heads.
Over a howling Griffin, Chris yells to me as I am getting dressed upstairs: "Are these the only khaki pants you have for Griffin?"
Me: "No. But they're brand new. Why?"
Chris: "I can't get them buttoned over his belly. And he hates them. He screams anytime I try to button them."
Me: "What? They are size 2T! They have to fit! He's 15 months old for the love of God."
Chris: "I am telling you - they do not fit over his belly. It's impossible. Do you have any 3T pants I can try?"
At this rate, I am going to have to forget about hand me downs because Aidan, Brennan and Griffin will all be in the same size by the end of the year.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My dear friend Cynthia invited me out for a girl's night at the Sabres game last night. We had a great time over dinner and drinks and even at the abomination that was the hockey game. It was a perfect break from the life of a mom.
It always surprises me though that I return home after being away from the kiddies all day and all night and I miss them so much it hurts. I always creep into each of their rooms to watch them as they sleep for a few minutes. And a part of me always hopes they will roll over, wake up and allow me to give them a hug. None of them did, so I settled with a gentle kiss goodnight on their sleeping heads.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Take IT
Could someone please, pretty please - forcibly remove the abundance of easter chocolate gracing my home (and my lips)? I can resist the Russell Stover giant easter bunnies and the Hershey's assortments littering their Easter baskets. But I can not fight off the luscious chocolate from Wahls or Watsons so generously bought for my boys from family.
Sidenote: I love how the chocolate I bought for their baskets was all on sale at Target. Meanwhile, other family members spring for the gourmet stuff. Like the kids know the difference, right?
You know who DOES know the difference? Me. I knew the difference when I ate two of the mini bunnies last night. I knew the difference when I sacrificed a chocolate lamb this morning. And I definitely pondered the difference when I just popped two chocolate eggs in my mouth as I MADE DINNER FOR THE BOYS. I also tried to hide all evidence of the chocolate stealing. (What do you mean what's in my mouth? I don't have anything in my mouth. Now go eat your carrots.) I mean, really - what type of mother eats all the GOOD chocolate from their children's easter baskets. Apparently me. And yes, I am so very proud.
So proud I may have to reward myself with that cute little chocolate chick waiting for me.
I have a problem.
Sidenote: I love how the chocolate I bought for their baskets was all on sale at Target. Meanwhile, other family members spring for the gourmet stuff. Like the kids know the difference, right?
You know who DOES know the difference? Me. I knew the difference when I ate two of the mini bunnies last night. I knew the difference when I sacrificed a chocolate lamb this morning. And I definitely pondered the difference when I just popped two chocolate eggs in my mouth as I MADE DINNER FOR THE BOYS. I also tried to hide all evidence of the chocolate stealing. (What do you mean what's in my mouth? I don't have anything in my mouth. Now go eat your carrots.) I mean, really - what type of mother eats all the GOOD chocolate from their children's easter baskets. Apparently me. And yes, I am so very proud.
So proud I may have to reward myself with that cute little chocolate chick waiting for me.
I have a problem.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
A House Full
My house was bursting at the seams with kiddies yesterday. I was outnumbered six to one - with kiddies ranging from thirteen to one years of age. Thankfully, I had planned ahead and we had activities galore. You know you are a mother of young children when you can honestly say you have:
- colored an easter bunny, several easter eggs, and completed an easter word hunt
- did an easter egg hunt TWICE around the house
- ate said treats derived from the easter egg hunt
- baked cupcakes
- frosted cupcakes
- watched Franklin (twice!)
- made easter theme door hangers
- went sledding in the backyard
- endured webkinz, upon webkinz, upon awful horrible webkinz
- danced your head off to Chugga Chugga Soul
ALL BEFORE 11 A.M.
Chris was surprised when he walked through the door last night and found me with a very well deserved glass of wine already in hand. (I was surprised that it was only my first glass of wine. Surely I should have already been well into my second glass by then.)
We recovered with a quiet night at home. I was in bed by 9. We are party people at our house on Friday nights.
- colored an easter bunny, several easter eggs, and completed an easter word hunt
- did an easter egg hunt TWICE around the house
- ate said treats derived from the easter egg hunt
- baked cupcakes
- frosted cupcakes
- watched Franklin (twice!)
- made easter theme door hangers
- went sledding in the backyard
- endured webkinz, upon webkinz, upon awful horrible webkinz
- danced your head off to Chugga Chugga Soul
ALL BEFORE 11 A.M.
Chris was surprised when he walked through the door last night and found me with a very well deserved glass of wine already in hand. (I was surprised that it was only my first glass of wine. Surely I should have already been well into my second glass by then.)
We recovered with a quiet night at home. I was in bed by 9. We are party people at our house on Friday nights.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Growing
"Mom, are you still growing?" Aidan asked me as I put him to bed tonight.
"Nope. I'm all done. But you'll keep growing and growing - until you are taller and bigger than me." I replied.
"But then how did Grandma and Grandpa grow to be SO old?"
I am sure my in laws would not appreciate this characterization of their age, but I tried to keep the chuckles to a minimum as my response. After a few minutes of discussion on aging vs. growing, Aidan gave me a hug and said to me, "I don't ever want you to grow old Mom."
And my heart broke a little as I had to confess that I never really want him to grow old either.
"Nope. I'm all done. But you'll keep growing and growing - until you are taller and bigger than me." I replied.
"But then how did Grandma and Grandpa grow to be SO old?"
I am sure my in laws would not appreciate this characterization of their age, but I tried to keep the chuckles to a minimum as my response. After a few minutes of discussion on aging vs. growing, Aidan gave me a hug and said to me, "I don't ever want you to grow old Mom."
And my heart broke a little as I had to confess that I never really want him to grow old either.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Last Minute
A kind reminder to teachers everywhere: sending home a note with my child regarding a mandatory school presentation in which my child has to be at school by 7 p.m. that very evening is NOT ADEQUATE NOTICE.
I walked through the door at 5:45, read the note and wished Aidan would say the teacher was kidding. Instead he was already jumping up and down with excitement over his class's presentation on the history of his school. (Do they do this stuff just to torture the parents? ) Chris walked through the door at 6:10 and after reading the note, laughed, turned to me and declared, "I'll flip you to see who has to go."
I lost. But I told Chris if he got to stay home, then he had to pick up the playroom so our dear cleaning lady could actually vacuum the rug tomorrow.
Aidan insisted his public appearance required a shirt, tie, pressed khakis, and dress shoes. He looked beyond adorably handsome, but of course, he was the only boy in kindergarten in a tie. He's like my very own version of a mini Alex P. Keaton.
Each grade, starting with pre-K, put on a short presentation, some with songs and exhibits!, on the history of their school. In short, it was alot of singing and reciting of people who have died during the course of the school's history. The father sitting next to me grimaced and whispered to me, "This is very uplifting." Heh.
I figured we could sneak out after Aidan's class did their thing, but, of course!, Aidan wanted to stay and watch some of the presentations. Until he heard the school was serving ice cream upstairs - then we were good to go. (Thank goodness for the bribe of a good sugar rush. Nothing works quite like it.)
I walked through the door at 5:45, read the note and wished Aidan would say the teacher was kidding. Instead he was already jumping up and down with excitement over his class's presentation on the history of his school. (Do they do this stuff just to torture the parents? ) Chris walked through the door at 6:10 and after reading the note, laughed, turned to me and declared, "I'll flip you to see who has to go."
I lost. But I told Chris if he got to stay home, then he had to pick up the playroom so our dear cleaning lady could actually vacuum the rug tomorrow.
Aidan insisted his public appearance required a shirt, tie, pressed khakis, and dress shoes. He looked beyond adorably handsome, but of course, he was the only boy in kindergarten in a tie. He's like my very own version of a mini Alex P. Keaton.
Each grade, starting with pre-K, put on a short presentation, some with songs and exhibits!, on the history of their school. In short, it was alot of singing and reciting of people who have died during the course of the school's history. The father sitting next to me grimaced and whispered to me, "This is very uplifting." Heh.
I figured we could sneak out after Aidan's class did their thing, but, of course!, Aidan wanted to stay and watch some of the presentations. Until he heard the school was serving ice cream upstairs - then we were good to go. (Thank goodness for the bribe of a good sugar rush. Nothing works quite like it.)
Monday, March 17, 2008
Those Crazy Leprechauns
Aidan jumped off the bus from school today, ran to me and yelled, "You are NEVER going to believe what happened at school today Mom!"
"What happened?" I asked as I helped him take off his jacket and hat.
"The Leprechauns broke into our classroom, stole our supply buckets and even knocked over some chairs!" He said with so much excitement that his words almost tripped over themselves as he spoke.
"They did?"
"Yes! And they left green dust EVERYWHERE. And a mess!"
"Green dust?"
"Yes, and it SPARKLED! On the FLOOR! And you know what?"
"What?"
Aidan's eyes gleam with excitement as he leans over to me, opens his palm and reveals two gold chocolate coins, "They left us a pot of their gold too."
"Wow."
"They were crazy leprechauns!" He giggled as he ran into the kitchen.
Aidan is so entranced with the idea of leprechauns gone wild he is determined to stay awake tonight just in case a few green munchkins are planning on some mischief at our house. I am supposed to nudge him if I catch him dozing off when I check on him later. I just wish I had some green dust to decorate his room.
"What happened?" I asked as I helped him take off his jacket and hat.
"The Leprechauns broke into our classroom, stole our supply buckets and even knocked over some chairs!" He said with so much excitement that his words almost tripped over themselves as he spoke.
"They did?"
"Yes! And they left green dust EVERYWHERE. And a mess!"
"Green dust?"
"Yes, and it SPARKLED! On the FLOOR! And you know what?"
"What?"
Aidan's eyes gleam with excitement as he leans over to me, opens his palm and reveals two gold chocolate coins, "They left us a pot of their gold too."
"Wow."
"They were crazy leprechauns!" He giggled as he ran into the kitchen.
Aidan is so entranced with the idea of leprechauns gone wild he is determined to stay awake tonight just in case a few green munchkins are planning on some mischief at our house. I am supposed to nudge him if I catch him dozing off when I check on him later. I just wish I had some green dust to decorate his room.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
To Hell and Back
The little stomach bug that took Aidan out for 12 or so hours ravaged me, beat me and knocked me out hard for four days straight. I finally feel human again. Thankfully, Brennan and Griffin have been spared. I say we just call an end to flu season and welcome spring already, okay?
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Stomach Flu Stalker
The stomach flu likes my house. Really, really, really loves to stalk my house and my three children. Either we make really great vomiters or we just have no immune system to speak of, because - really, if a person merely walks past the front door of our house with one little stomach virus germ clinging to them - that germ will stop, wait until our front door has opened and settle on in and make themselves at home. For quite some time.
I find this exceptionally unfair. I have friends and their children who, honestly, could get vomited on and STILL not catch the stupid bug. Not fair. We scrub our hands of germs. We keep a clean (if disorganized and chaotic) home. We take daily vitamins! Can't we have a pass on the damn vomit brigade just once?
Therefore, I propose the following: I think anyone who gets the stomach flu should get an automatic pass for (at least!) one year after the vomiting event. Sort of like a get out of jail free card, but better, really, because having young children vomiting all over the house is WAY worse than jail. (In fact, I think I'd volunteer for jail instead of catching vomit in a bucket at 3 a.m., but that's just me.)
Can you tell from the run on sentences and endless babbling that I slept all of two hours last night? I went to bed at 10:30, caught vomit duty in Aidan's room from 11:30 until 5 a.m., slept from 5 a.m, until 6 a.m, and then yelled repeatedly at my poor husband when he tried to wake me up at exactly the time I had asked him, under pain of death, to get me out of bed.
Chris and I negotiated a split of our sick child duties. I got Brennan and Griffin off to school and myself off to work while Chris stayed home this morning to nurse Aidan back to health on saltines, ice water and lots of XBox 360. We traded jobs half way through the day. In the afternoon, I worked at home while Aidan napped while Chris was off to work. After nap, I played some abysmal Sonic the Hedgehog leading my 5 year old to feel so sorry for me that he actually let me win.
I have spent every other spare second of my time praying to the gods of sickness to please, pretty please, spare my two other children from yet another round of this stomach bug. I disinfected and scrubbed any surface I could find and washed sheets and blankets in steaming hot water. We deserve a pass. It has only been TWO whole months since we were all vomiting in consecutive horror.
Keep your fingers crossed for us. Say a prayer. Until then, you may want to steer clear of our house and send some Clorox wipes my way.
I find this exceptionally unfair. I have friends and their children who, honestly, could get vomited on and STILL not catch the stupid bug. Not fair. We scrub our hands of germs. We keep a clean (if disorganized and chaotic) home. We take daily vitamins! Can't we have a pass on the damn vomit brigade just once?
Therefore, I propose the following: I think anyone who gets the stomach flu should get an automatic pass for (at least!) one year after the vomiting event. Sort of like a get out of jail free card, but better, really, because having young children vomiting all over the house is WAY worse than jail. (In fact, I think I'd volunteer for jail instead of catching vomit in a bucket at 3 a.m., but that's just me.)
Can you tell from the run on sentences and endless babbling that I slept all of two hours last night? I went to bed at 10:30, caught vomit duty in Aidan's room from 11:30 until 5 a.m., slept from 5 a.m, until 6 a.m, and then yelled repeatedly at my poor husband when he tried to wake me up at exactly the time I had asked him, under pain of death, to get me out of bed.
Chris and I negotiated a split of our sick child duties. I got Brennan and Griffin off to school and myself off to work while Chris stayed home this morning to nurse Aidan back to health on saltines, ice water and lots of XBox 360. We traded jobs half way through the day. In the afternoon, I worked at home while Aidan napped while Chris was off to work. After nap, I played some abysmal Sonic the Hedgehog leading my 5 year old to feel so sorry for me that he actually let me win.
I have spent every other spare second of my time praying to the gods of sickness to please, pretty please, spare my two other children from yet another round of this stomach bug. I disinfected and scrubbed any surface I could find and washed sheets and blankets in steaming hot water. We deserve a pass. It has only been TWO whole months since we were all vomiting in consecutive horror.
Keep your fingers crossed for us. Say a prayer. Until then, you may want to steer clear of our house and send some Clorox wipes my way.
Monday, March 10, 2008
And So It Begins
I thought I had time. A few years at least, maybe (hopefully) more. But today, it began. Aidan got off the bus and after only a few minutes of quality time, the phone rang. It was a girl. And it was for Aidan.
I know I am doomed to a life as the pyscho mother to three boys. Today I had to hide slight tears gathering in my eyes as I handed that first phone call to Aidan. Evidence, of course, that my pyscho mommy days are closer than I would like them to be.
The first conversation lasted only a few minutes. Aidan told me she had to get off the phone because "her dog pooped and she had to clean it up." Ah, such is the stuff of kindergarten romance.
Not to worry though. She called back another EIGHT times over the course of the evening, until we finally put a stop to it at 6:30.
I am not ready for this. Just not ready at all.
I know I am doomed to a life as the pyscho mother to three boys. Today I had to hide slight tears gathering in my eyes as I handed that first phone call to Aidan. Evidence, of course, that my pyscho mommy days are closer than I would like them to be.
The first conversation lasted only a few minutes. Aidan told me she had to get off the phone because "her dog pooped and she had to clean it up." Ah, such is the stuff of kindergarten romance.
Not to worry though. She called back another EIGHT times over the course of the evening, until we finally put a stop to it at 6:30.
I am not ready for this. Just not ready at all.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Questions on Marriage
Like most parents, I am stumped by certain questions posed to me by my children. I just haven't reached the point yet in my parental development where I can answer the tough questions with ease and appropriateness. (I am, of course, assuming you reach a point as a parent where you do all things easily and appropriately. This may be untrue, but I need to have a goal to keep myself on the straight and narrow.)
So, imagine my paralysis when Aidan turned to me over dinner and asked, "Mom, can two boys get married?"
A million and one thoughts ran through my head in a matter of a second. I wanted to give him the perfect answer, but all I could come up with was: "It depends." This led Chris to debate me on my clearly hedging answer and respond with, "Not legally." At which I respond, "Yes, legally - in some places." Finally, I looked at Aidan and said, "Sometimes two boys do fall in love and yes, in some places they can get married. And that's okay."
He nods, takes a bite of pizza and asks: "Can you marry two people at the same time?"
Chris grins and responds, "Only if you live in Utah..." I shoot Chris a quick look and manage, "No. People can marry two people, but you have to end one marriage before you enter into another marriage. Sometimes, a marriage doesn't work and people get divorced."
Aidan nods again and says with serious eyes, "I think I know that. And you know what happens then mom? Then the dad has to marry someone else. Someone else called a stepmother!"
Just another relaxing family dinner in our house.
So, imagine my paralysis when Aidan turned to me over dinner and asked, "Mom, can two boys get married?"
A million and one thoughts ran through my head in a matter of a second. I wanted to give him the perfect answer, but all I could come up with was: "It depends." This led Chris to debate me on my clearly hedging answer and respond with, "Not legally." At which I respond, "Yes, legally - in some places." Finally, I looked at Aidan and said, "Sometimes two boys do fall in love and yes, in some places they can get married. And that's okay."
He nods, takes a bite of pizza and asks: "Can you marry two people at the same time?"
Chris grins and responds, "Only if you live in Utah..." I shoot Chris a quick look and manage, "No. People can marry two people, but you have to end one marriage before you enter into another marriage. Sometimes, a marriage doesn't work and people get divorced."
Aidan nods again and says with serious eyes, "I think I know that. And you know what happens then mom? Then the dad has to marry someone else. Someone else called a stepmother!"
Just another relaxing family dinner in our house.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Friday at the Museum
Aidan had a day off school today. (I swear the number of school holidays is unbelievable.) The day off inspired us to head out for a little friday field trip. With two cousins in tow, (leaving me in a car with five (5!) children - from ages 13 to 1!), we set off for Explore and More for a little fun.
Aidan and Brennan loved the construction section and spent most of the morning "building a house."
Griffin's personal favorite was the international culture section of the museum, specifically the tribute to Mexican music. He busted many a move as he shook a few maracas.
My personal highlight of the morning was my obnoxiously hysterical laughter when a mother asked me if all five children were mine. I managed to stop laughing long enough to reply, "I am just not that strong of a person." She laughed and said, "You did look pretty calm for being a mother to five." Yeah, if she only knew.
Aidan and Brennan loved the construction section and spent most of the morning "building a house."
Griffin's personal favorite was the international culture section of the museum, specifically the tribute to Mexican music. He busted many a move as he shook a few maracas.
My personal highlight of the morning was my obnoxiously hysterical laughter when a mother asked me if all five children were mine. I managed to stop laughing long enough to reply, "I am just not that strong of a person." She laughed and said, "You did look pretty calm for being a mother to five." Yeah, if she only knew. After the museum, we enjoyed a gourmet lunch at the culinary bistro known as Burger King. (It was Aidan's choice.) Does ketchup count as a vegetable? If so, Griffin had a full day's worth of veggies after he sucked down three plastic cups of ketchup. (The smell of ketchup is still stinging my nostrils. Whew!)
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Huggers Unite!
Brennan loves to hug. This love for a hug extends beyond his family. He insists before he leaves school he must hug each one of his friends goodbye. It is sweet to see your three year old boy in a hugging frenzy at the end of each day. (It is also somewhat comical to see Brennan hugging his classmates since he towers over most of them and looks like he could pick them up on a whim and carry them off.)
Brennan’s teacher and I always share mutual amusement over Brennan’s end of the day hugging antics. A few weeks ago, she told me Brennan was one of two huggers from his class, but the other hugger, a little girl, had been forbidden from any further hugging.
Yeah, no more hugging or else! Apparently, the mother of the other hugger called the school and informed them her daughter is no longer allowed to hug her classmates. This little girl may wave or smile to her friends in greeting, but absolutely, positively no hugging! I shook my head with incomprehension as I asked, “Why? Why would the mother stop her from hugging?”
The response: “The mother told us she doesn’t want her daughter to grow up to be that type of girl.”
I have no idea what this means. I want Brennan to grow up to be exactly this type of boy. A boy who shares affection and love with his friends and family with comfort and joy. I am not sure how this could ever be a bad thing.
But even Brennan’s hugging is now under attack by another teacher. He sadly informed me last night that one of the other teachers has put a stop to his hugging. I found myself asking, once again, why?
Brennan made a scrunched up face, shook his head and said sadly, “All that hugging spreads too many germs mom.”
I gave him a hug and whispered, “You just keep on hugging B – germs and all. Okay?”
He giggled and said, “Okay.”
We may just start our own little hugging revolution.
Brennan’s teacher and I always share mutual amusement over Brennan’s end of the day hugging antics. A few weeks ago, she told me Brennan was one of two huggers from his class, but the other hugger, a little girl, had been forbidden from any further hugging.
Yeah, no more hugging or else! Apparently, the mother of the other hugger called the school and informed them her daughter is no longer allowed to hug her classmates. This little girl may wave or smile to her friends in greeting, but absolutely, positively no hugging! I shook my head with incomprehension as I asked, “Why? Why would the mother stop her from hugging?”
The response: “The mother told us she doesn’t want her daughter to grow up to be that type of girl.”
I have no idea what this means. I want Brennan to grow up to be exactly this type of boy. A boy who shares affection and love with his friends and family with comfort and joy. I am not sure how this could ever be a bad thing.
But even Brennan’s hugging is now under attack by another teacher. He sadly informed me last night that one of the other teachers has put a stop to his hugging. I found myself asking, once again, why?
Brennan made a scrunched up face, shook his head and said sadly, “All that hugging spreads too many germs mom.”
I gave him a hug and whispered, “You just keep on hugging B – germs and all. Okay?”
He giggled and said, “Okay.”
We may just start our own little hugging revolution.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Signs of Spring
I always forget how desperate we are for the warmth of spring until we have a bizarre day of warmth and sunshine smack dab in the middle of winter. Today was such a day. It was sunny and warm. The perfect weather to counter the winter blahs. I got the boys outside as soon as we could throw on boots and jackets. They stomped in every puddle they could find, spattering mud and goop on them, on each other and on me. They threw rocks into a frozen lake, trying to crack the surface of the ice with brute force. And we walked and walked some more, enjoying the warm wind on our faces. There is nothing like a little warm sunshine to put a smile on a child's face.
We made it out again after nap time. The boys entertained themselves for an hour, cracking ice and digging in mud puddles. They were covered, head to toe, in dirt and sloppy mud for the second time of the day. It was a perfect promise of the spring to come. Until, of course, it snows tomorrow morning.
We made it out again after nap time. The boys entertained themselves for an hour, cracking ice and digging in mud puddles. They were covered, head to toe, in dirt and sloppy mud for the second time of the day. It was a perfect promise of the spring to come. Until, of course, it snows tomorrow morning.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Long Time Gone
Aidan and I always spend a few minutes cuddled up on his bed before I kiss him goodnight. We always talk a bit, usually about our days, but he has another favorite topic: it's called let's discuss how many times/days you have gone away without me. Yep. My sweet boy likes to dissect each and every time I had to leave him overnight. This includes a discussion of the length of each time away and the reason. From stolen weekends away to hospital stays to arrange the arrival of his little brothers, Aidan wants to recount each occurrence again... and again.. and again.
The first time he sprang this topic on me, I panicked under the pressure of guilt and told him I was only away for a day or two in the hospital to have Griffin. He shook his head at me and FROM MEMORY told me the number of days I was gone, including the day of the week I left and returned. I think he scares me a little bit.
The first time he sprang this topic on me, I panicked under the pressure of guilt and told him I was only away for a day or two in the hospital to have Griffin. He shook his head at me and FROM MEMORY told me the number of days I was gone, including the day of the week I left and returned. I think he scares me a little bit.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Bye Bye Baby Locks
Chris took the boys for a hair cut this morning. We discussed Griffin's hair before he left. I asked Chris to get Griffin a trim, just enough to get rid of the little mullet action he was sporting, but not enough to take away his sweet blonde baby locks. Imagine my reaction when I returned from grocery shopping and was greeted with this:
Yeah, NOT a trim, right? It looks like someone took some serious shears to my baby's locks. At first glance of my baby's balding head, I dropped my purse and bags on the floor and, of course, started to cry. It wasn't a pretty cry either, it was the wailing of a mom faced with her last little baby looking at her as a little boy. And then Chris and I commenced our debate (read: fight) on the definition of trim vs. hair cut. ( I also can't figure out if this is just his clever way of getting out of hair cut duty for the foreseeable future. If so, it may be a stroke of genius on his part.)
On the bright side, I guess my baby's sweet locks will grow back. Someday. Sigh.
Yeah, NOT a trim, right? It looks like someone took some serious shears to my baby's locks. At first glance of my baby's balding head, I dropped my purse and bags on the floor and, of course, started to cry. It wasn't a pretty cry either, it was the wailing of a mom faced with her last little baby looking at her as a little boy. And then Chris and I commenced our debate (read: fight) on the definition of trim vs. hair cut. ( I also can't figure out if this is just his clever way of getting out of hair cut duty for the foreseeable future. If so, it may be a stroke of genius on his part.)
On the bright side, I guess my baby's sweet locks will grow back. Someday. Sigh.
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