Winter Wonderland

We took the boys to a kiddie holiday party yesterday.

Nutcrackers greeted us at the door with holiday coloring books. The boys met Santa and got some special elf magic dust. They had caricatures done and made ornaments. They even got to bounce their heads off in a holiday themed bounce house. And of course, Griffin busted many a move (with the assistance of his "buddy" Ryan) to the deejay spinning kiddie holiday tunes. It was kiddie holiday heaven, complete with pizza logs on the buffet and an all you can eat sundae bar for dessert.

Just Another Sunday Morning

While most people are still snug in their beds, content to roll over for a few more hours of indulgent Sunday morning sleep, my kiddies are up and about, engaged in a fierce battle of hockey in the playroom.

Welcome to a Sunday morning in our house:

I have to believe there will be a day when I will sleep in again. I MUST believe.

The Celebration of Two

The birthday elves decorated Griffin's room while he slept. He awoke to balloons scattered on his floor, taped to his door and stuck on his chair at the kitchen table. Moments after awaking, he opened his presents and was thrilled with his birthday cake play set and new Superman shirt. He, of course, demanded to wear his new shirt immediately, after which he jumped up high in the air and told us, "Now. I fly. I FLY!" He then proceeded to run circles around the house.

Everyone got into the fun. The boys all got a bit goofy. I'm not sure if it was even 7 am yet.

Later that day, we celebrated the year of two with our standard fare of pizza and cake. Griffin was loved up by his family, cousins, aunts, grandparents and brothers. There were presents galore.

It's good to be two.

Griffin at Two

My last, sweet little baby boy is two.

At two, you have a mind of your own to rival that of an adults. You know what you want, when you want it and you expect all of us in your vicinity to get it for you... quickly. Your personality is so strong that your father has nicknamed you the "tyrant".

But if you are a tyrant (and you are, just a bit), you are a lovable one. You are a cuddler and a hugger. You give kisses and exude love to everyone in your family. You refuse to go to bed at night without hugging both of your brothers at least twice.

You are the happiest of our brood in the morning. You wake up, eager to start each day with absolute glee. You are running, giggling and jumping well before breakfast. Your happiness is infectious for all of us. You give us a heaping dose of morning joy to welcome the day.

You love to sing. You really love to dance. Your latest obsession is your electric guitar that you dance and sing along with for your adoring audience. You also love to play kitchen and go grocery shopping, but your absolute favorite is to play hockey. You grab our mini hockey sticks, a puck and hit around the house for hours. You were destroyed to discover you weren't signed up to learn ice hockey with your brothers. I think the fellow parents at the ice rink are still laughing over the irate almost two year old screaming, "I HOCKEY. I HOCKEY. ME TOO, Momma! I CAN HOCKEY TOO."

You are independent and spirited. You amaze me with how quickly you learn new things. You speak in complete sentences with confidence. You like to pretend you are much older than you are. But, selfishly, I want you to remain our baby. Please do not grow up too fast. We want to hold onto you for much, much longer.

Happy Two, my sweet tyrant of a boy. (even if you keep telling everyone you are four.)

Tackle

The boys love when their uncles come to visit. They love the attention, the play, the fun. But what they love most, is to tackle and attack their uncles with abandon.

It's rough to have three nephews. It is not a job for the faint of heart.

The Hunt for the Tree

Our family tradition is to welcome Christmas the Saturday after Thanksgiving by traveling out to a local tree farm and selecting our trees. We pick a tall, chubby tree for our living room and a small Charlie Brown of a tree for upstairs near the boys' rooms. We have been going to the same tree farm since we moved back to Buffalo - over 8 years ago. The same man has helped us each year and watched our family grow for each holiday.

I look forward to this day quite a bit. I also tend to get a little overemotional each year. This year, I spent the drive to the farm singing along with Christmas carols, but also trying to hide the growing tears in my eyes. We are so blessed. We are healthy. We are happy. I feel just so very fortunate to have all of it.

We quickly found two perfect trees. The boys accepted their celebratory candy canes with glee. And we headed home to usher the holiday season into our home.

Sly

My brothers, Seth and Trav, sister in law Tennille and Trav's girlfriend Lynda stopped over this morning with my mom to play with the boys. Casually, I asked them what their plans were for the rest of the day.

Tennille responded, "Nothing much. Just hanging out."

We couldn't have that now, could we? With that, I declared that it would be wonderful for all them to have some extra time with the boys. They should take them somewhere! A movie! A store! To lunch! To Chuck E Cheese!

And Chuck E Cheese it was.

Sadly, I told them that I had to stay home with Griffin while he took a much needed nap.

Before they left, Seth asked me what time they needed to have them back.

As I pushed them all out the door, I told him, "Whenever. We have no plans. Feel free to keep them until bedtime!"

I only wish I had video of all of them skeeballing in kiddie hell. I'd pay money for even just a picture.

Until then, Griffin naps. I shop online in a peaceful quiet home, watching the snow fall outside. I could get used to this, I think. I may just have to redouble my efforts to get the NYC contingent of my family to move back to our parts. Just imagine the possibilities. I'm thinking... sleepovers!

Thankful

The boys and I greeted Thanksgiving morning with homemade cinnamon buns. What exactly made me believe it was a good idea to have my children play with flour, mere hours before we would host dinner for 12? I have no idea. I plead insanity.

But those sugary, buttery cinnamon goodness may have made my flour caked floors all worth it in the end. As we ate our creations, the boys and I discussed Thanksgiving and the meaning of the term "thankful."

Aidan announced, "I am thankful for you and daddy loving me. And clothes and food. My toys and our family."

Brennan smiled and said, "I am thankful for hugs." (I know it is impossible to believe this statement can get any cuter, but picture Brennan saying it with a face stained with cinnamon and cream cheese frosting on his nose.)

I turned to Griffin and asked, "Griffin, what are you thankful for?"

Griffin, with a mouth full, managed to mutter, "Cimmamom bums."

After breakfast, we spent the morning rounding up the toys and legos and warrior men littering our home in order to make it look (somewhat) presentable. We set the table. We dressed the kiddies. We cloroxed wiped the house. And then we awaited the food.

My mother and father in law arrived shortly thereafter bearing cooked turkey, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes and well, a whole host of turkey day dinner materials. (It's a snap to host when you aren't really cooking all that much.)

We ate and ate some more. Griffin devoured his entire plateful of Thanksgiving dinner and Aidan had TWO helpings of turkey. We had to admit to shock to see Aidan request, eat, and then enjoy his first ever helping of pumpkin pie. Griffin preferred the berry pie, while Brennan just stuck to the freshly whipped cream. (heaps and heaps of it. I ate a nice big slab of apple. Color me happy with some apple crumb pie. Yum.)

I have to admit that one of our more favorite parts of hosting a major dinner like this is the promise of leftovers. A glance in my fridge confirms we may be eating turkey, potatoes and pie for a week at least. I think I may be just a little bit thankful for that as well.

Of Joy

"Mommy, I love you." Brennan said to me as we drove home from school.

"I love you too B. You bring me joy." I said back to him.

"Momma, what is joy?" Brennan asked.

I thought for a minute. Finally I said, "Joy is lots and lots of love bubbling in my heart."

I saw Brennan smile in the rear view mirror. He nodded and said, "You are my joy too."

Shaking the Cream

I was a classroom volunteer for Aidan's class on Monday. My job was to assist the kiddies with the creation of their Thanksgiving Day feast. The teacher divided up the class by gender. I was assigned the boy table, with the assistance of a volunteer dad.

Our first assignment was to make butter. The teacher gave the girls an electric beater and told them to take turns beating cream until it became butter. She then gave our table a plastic shaker filled with cream and told the boys to take turns shaking it until it became butter. It was a contest to see which group finished first.

This teacher knows her boys. Truly. She has three of her own. I watched, giggling, as my table of ten boys guffawed, burped and went crazy shaking the hell out of that plastic shaker. It was pure mayhem. They were loud, enthusiastic and almost insane as they tried to one up the person next to them with their shaking antics.

After a few minutes, I looked up laughing and noticed the girl table. The girls were lined up, in a single formation, patiently waiting their turn for a chance to hold on to the electric beater. There was no yelling or posturing. A few quietly sang songs or giggled behind hands as they waited. The comparison between the two tables was incredible.

I caught the eye of one of the other mothers, grinned and said to her with a shrug, "I guess this is why I have three boys."

She laughed, shook her head at the chaos in front of me and replied, "I guess this is why I have three girls."

Three is Enough

"Did you know my friend Grace in my class has a new baby?" Aidan asked me over lunch today at Wegmans.

"I heard. A little boy, right?" I responded.

"Yep. And now her mommy has seven kids! SEVEN!" Aidan said with disbelief.

"Wow. Do you think we should have seven kids in our family?" I asked, half joking.

Aidan gives me a serious smile and says, "Mom, I think we have our hands full of enough work as it is."

Yes, three definitely is enough for our family.

Conversations in a Marriage

It was naptime. The house was blissfully quiet. Brennan and Griffin were asleep and Aidan was snuggled under a blanket with me. He watched Scooby Doo while I read a book.

Chris walked into the room and asked what I was doing.

"I'm reading this book. It's so unbelievably good. The writing, the story, the characters - it is just well done. And it's so beautifully written. So well written that it makes me ache. I wish I could write like this author. I love this book. And I just picked it on a whim when the kids and I were at the library the other day. I love it! Really love it. I feel like it is an unexpected gift that I got to open. I can't wait to finish it, but yet, I don't really want it to end. I am simply in love with it."

Chris looks at me in silence and nods. Then he says, "I just ate a whole bag of beef jerky. It was good. I loved it."

Men.

On Birthdays

Tonight at dinner, Brennan announced to all of us, "I am turning five on my birthday!"

Aidan shook his head and responded, "No. You're turning four."

Brennan scowled back at him and said, "I don't want to turn four. I am turning five. That's what I've decided. Five!" He pointed his fork at the air for emphasis.

"Brennan, four is great. Why wouldn't you want to be four?" I asked.

"Yes, B. You don't want to rush through four. " Chris added.

"No, you don't," Aidan said, shaking his head slowly "Before you know it Brenn, you're going to be in first grade. And first grade is hard. All the math! And the reading. Stay four while you can." Aidan let out a huge sigh, leaned back in his chair and pronounced, "Let me tell you. Four is easy. It's six that's hard."

My Boy

Aidan had his sixth year well check up today. (Yes, I know. He turned six approximately two or so months ago, but I tend to procrastinate these things, okay?)

It was the first doctor's visit that was directed completely at him. The nurses spoke to him, not me. The doctor asked him all the questions she used to ask me. It was like this new, completely self composed little person had sprung up next to me and replaced my little boy.

Aidan answered each question with ease. He politely asked for a gown instead of opting to hang in his undies as he did in years past. He was honest and thoughtful as he spoke to the doctor.

I was so proud. So incredibly, unbelievably proud. And of course, I had to blink back tears because honestly, I felt like my heart was going to burst with my love for this little boy.

I have moments with my children where I see flashes of the men they will become. This afternoon, I saw it in Aidan. I love the person he is, and is growing up to be, but it still broke my heart a little.

P.S. He is so tall! He ranks in the 95% for height, 90% for weight. The doctor told us he is about the size of a 7 1/2 year old. (He takes after his father or his uncles. Definitely not me and my astounding 5 feet 4 1/2 inches.)

Planes, Trains and Cleavage

Saturday was a whirlwind.

Brennan and I started the day at a special planes and trains seminar for the preschool set put on by the Whoville Rec Department. (The Whoville Rec Department is amazing. They offer programs from the normal learn to swim and sports to tea with Miss Spider or playtime with Max and Ruby. I adore the Whoville Rec Department. LOVE them.)

It was nice to have some one on one time with the B. I think he enjoyed it too, right up until they had us make our own paper airplanes and I was a complete failure. I apologized to Brennan for my pathetic attempts at paper airplane making and told him sadly, that Daddy was the true paper airplane engineer in our family.

Brennan shook his head sadly and said in his loud preschooler voice, "Mom, I wish you had stayed home with Aidan and Griffin and Daddy came with me to make paper airplanes."

I got many a sympathetic gaze from all the other moms being loved up by their preschoolers with their fantastic displays of airplane craftsmanship.

Brennan perked up when we fit in a stop at Target. He was a happy camper riding in the basin of the cart, drinking an icee and munching on popcorn. Life doesn't get much better than that, right?

After Target, I had to drop B off at home to run to a hair cut appointment. He was not thrilled and assured me he could come with me and sit quietly while I was cut and colored. All the cuteness in the world wouldn't get me to fall for that promise.

Later that same evening, Chris and I gussied ourselves up into cocktail attire to attend Aidan's school's Gala. I opted to go with a dress I already owned, discounting how much of my cleavage would be on display at the CATHOLIC school fundraiser. Not sure it was the right choice, but it became easier to swallow after a couple glasses of wine.






(Yes, I took pictures like we were going to prom. But, seriously, how often do Chris and I get dolled up to look like actual grown ups? Yeah, not often. What's worse? The kiddies were all munching pizza with Grandma Jo Jo when we took the pic and they wanted to be in it. I wouldn't let them and their pizza sauce mouths anywhere near us. Bad mom. BAD mom!)

Our Sunday was much more relaxed. After a morning of tennis, we spent the day in pajamas, dancing and making cookies. It was a perfect lazy day at home, with plenty of quality time to love up the kids and watch the snowflakes roll in. Aidan informed me that his favorite time of the day was us cuddling on the couch, listening to music under blankets. I think it was one of the highlights of mine as well.

Home

I got home last night just in time to give the two older boys kisses before bed.

(I would have been home to play, read books and enjoy lots and lots of cuddles with all three of my boys if I hadn't endured five flight delays, an airplane bathroom overflowing with sewage and stinkin up the whole cabin, and me, forgetting to write down where exactly I parked my car in long term parking. Not surprisingly, it takes quite a lot of time to find your car in the dark. Apparently, lots of people drive black Ford Explorers in Buffalo. And well, long term parking is big. Really big. Especially when you are toting luggage and wearing heels.)

I digress.

When I finally arrived home, I got inside the house, threw down my luggage and ran upstairs to greet the boys.

I went into Brennan's room, hugged him tight and smothered him with kisses. Brennan pulled away, looked at me with his big brown serious eyes and said, "I don't like you going out of town."

"Me neither B. I missed you tons." I replied as I kissed the top of his head.

"You can never go out of town again."

"Okay," I said with a slight laugh.

"Ever!" He replied sternly.

"I got it."

"NEVER. EVER." He whispered as he hugged me.

I teared up as I relayed the story to Chris when I went downstairs. He laughed and said to me, "You know you were only gone for like a day, right?"

Whatever. Regardless, I am so grateful to not be the road warrior for our family. I am a home body through and through. And that is a good thing.

Whiner, Whiner

I have to go out of town for work today. This is a role shift in our little family. Chris is our designated road warrior. He spends quite a bit of time traveling to get the job done, leaving me at home to keep the troops fed and happy, and do everything else us single working mothers do to survive.

But today it is me. I don't want it to be me. I don't like to travel for work. (I like to travel for fun, but that's neither here nor there, right?)

I have been a tiny bit of a whiner about my trip. My trip that is all of one night away from home and a mere hour long plane ride away from the kiddies. You'd think I was going to Alaska for the way I have been acting. I may have even cried just a teensy little bit last night over the thought of it.

Then we get to this morning. This morning my children were terrors. They are all coming down with colds (the cold I have endured for THREE WEEKS STRAIGHT AND I AM STILL HACKING UP A LUNG, thank you very much.) They fought. They cried. Griffin threw himself on the floor kicking and screaming in despair more times than I could count.

We weren't a pretty family this morning.

After Chris put Griffin in time out and we listened to his howls and tears, he turned to me and said, "Bet your trip is looking much better to you now, isn't it?"

Maybe there is something to this road warrior thing after all.

First Snow

I woke up this morning to the sounds of the boys and Chris yelling at the sight outside.

"Mom, did you look outside? Did you see it? Did you?" Aidan yelled.

The boys ran downstairs to plant their noses against our windows in awe. I slowly got out of bed and joined them at the windows.

It had snowed last night while we slept. We had at least two inches of snow gracing our yard. We shared exclamations and shouts of glee until Brennan turned to me, grabbed my legs to hug me and said with joy, "It's Christmas, Momma! Christmas!"

Aidan set off for school and I managed to hold off the two younger ones from outside play until the ripe ol' hour of 8:30 a.m. Then we dug for boots, gloves, snow pants and hats to race outside and roll in some fluffy white stuff.

Brennan was euphoric. He set to work, making snow angels and snow piles. He covered every inch of himself in snow. Griffin was cold. He reminded me repeatedly that he was cold. But he still managed to dig and shovel up lots of snow. His mood immediately perked up when Brennan explained that once we went inside they would get hot chocolate and marshmallows.

I finally had to force them inside when Griffin's face looked frozen. Brennan was reluctant to go in, certain that it would all melt away the moment he left. I promised we would have more than enough snow this season. Isn't that why we live in Buffalo?

Boy Play

Sometimes it's strange to be the mother of three boys. When I imagined motherhood before I had children, I always saw myself with a mix - boys and girls. I never thought I would be raising all boys. And I never imagined my day would consist of all boy play, all the time.

Today, my day started out with a lego building workshop. We spent an hour building lego battleships for an intergalactic war. From there we moved on to pretend play at Star Wars, then we battled with swords because we were being attacked by pirates. This afternoon, we played baseball. And golf. I watched as the boys played "who can fall the fastest, the hardest and the funniest. (and get the muddiest.)"

No dolls. No barbies. No sweet play. It's all boy, all day long.

I also never knew I'd enjoy it so much. I guess I really was meant to be the mother of boys. Life has a way of working out exactly as it should.

Election Day Pride

We like to start them young in our family:




(Pay no attention to the annoyingly high pitch voice in the background. I have no idea who that is. Nope.)

The teachers at Griffin's school got quite a kick over his political views and walked him from class to class today to give him time to get out the vote for Obama. Everyone loved it, except the Director of the School, who gave me a very sad smile and slightly admonished me for my brainwashing techniques. Two seconds later, she admitted she was a McCain supporter. I told her I wouldn't hold it against her. (maybe. I might. Griffin surely will.)

You Do What You Have To Do

In order to go to the bathroom this morning, I agreed with Brennan that I was, indeed, Princess Leia and I needed to be rescued from the clutches of evil Jabba (Griffin) by Luke Skywalker (Brennan.)

The whole imaginary rescue scene played out in the master bathroom while I sat on the toilet. Good times, eh?

In order to clean the showers, bathtubs and toilets later that morning, I agreed to affix Aidan's glow in the dark, neon rosary to my head as my princess crown. I was a poor Princess captured by Pirates who would be rescued by a team of commanders (Brennan in a firefighter hat and Griffin in a construction hat - both with capes and wielding plastic swords.) (Thankfully, the evil pirates still allowed me to clean during the tense stand off and rescue.)

Yeah, you do what you have to do in parenthood to get things done.

The Halloween Chronicles

We begin last weekend with our family carving celebration. We cut up some pumpkins, ate pumpkin seeds and made lots of "spooky" noises. A good time was had by all:

I made witch cupcakes for the boys to mark the celebration (how cute. So cute, right?):

On Halloween, we always host our friends and their kiddies for pizza, chaos and beer (for the adults that is.) The kids in all their costumed glory:

Snarfing down pizza before the race to the sugar high:

Then we were off to trick or treat! The kids raced from house to house, intent on filling their bags to the brim with sugary goodness. This meant that I lagged behind with Griffin -and only managed to capture him on film.

Griffin meets our neighbor's Buffalo:

In addition to trick or treating for candy, Aidan was trick or treating for cash to fund Unicef. He had a small container he held up at each house as he announced loudly, "I am also trick or treating for the poor kids!" He was insistent on filling his Unicef box with cold hard cash and accepted no excuses. When one household told Aidan, "Oh, well, I don't have any money on me, so I would have to go find my wallet." Aidan smiled sweetly and said, "That's okay. I'll wait."

At the end of the night the bags were full, and the kids were crazed with sugar. Another successful Halloween for our brood.

If only we could avoid the inevitable sugar crash, sleep deprived Halloween hangover that is today. Chris was a wise, wise man when he scheduled his all guy, all sports, all Buffalo weekend today - leaving me with three sugar addicts and counting down the minutes 'til nap. (A very wise man, indeed.) Can anyone say, "payback?" I can. And I am.

Oh Lovely Weekend

We had a lovely weekend here at our home. A lovely weekend full of nothing much, really. It was just nice to be at home, puttering in our pajamas instead of running at our normal furious pace.

I like fall and the nesting it brings us.

We started our weekend at a lil' Halloween party for the kiddies on Friday night. The boys got all dressed up in costumes. (Much negotiation went on over the costume selection. Once Aidan got wind that Brennan was debating wearing his storm trooper costume from last year, he threw his brand new Bo Bo Fett costume to the wind faster than you can say Light Saber! This led to a new line up for the night: storm trooper Aidan; Bo Bo Fett Brennan and Superman Griffin decked out in his "G" cape.)

We had been at the party for no less than five minutes when I was just completely and totally overwhelmed with emotion. I was overjoyed at the happiness on my children's faces. I felt so supremely blessed to have these children and our life. And I felt so lucky to have the opportunity to provide my children with this life. So, yes, I may have been the only person in the vicinity of the children's Halloween party to actually have to seek privacy to dab at the tears in her eyes. (And then I sent my hubbie off to find us a bar and a nice glass of wine to get our party on...)

The boys bobbed for apples. Griffin danced the night away. Aidan loved the chance to wrap me up like a mummy. (Me? Not such a great activity for the person with a slight claustrophobia.)





Saturday and Sunday were lazy days at home. It was peaceful and relaxed. Our big moment of excitement came Sunday night at the boys bedtime. We were "ghosted" with a surprise basket of treats and Halloween goodies. As part of the "ghosting," we have to hang a ghost in our front door and pick two neighbors to surprise with anonymous Halloween goodies. It's like a ding dong dash version of trick or treating. The kids love it.

So tonight, we put together two bags of Halloween goodies for our "ghosting." While Chris, Aidan and Brennan set off under the cover of darkness to surprise our neighbors, Griffin and I watched them from the front window. It was hysterically funny to see the boys ringing doorbells, dropping treat bags and running as fast as their legs could carry them. I especially enjoyed watching the boy across the street opening his door, once, twice, and then three times in the hopes of catching the mysterious "ghost" that left him treats.

Now the boys are all tucked into bed and I will celebrate with watching Gossip Girl on our brand spankin' newly installed Fios TV. Take that CBS parent network who pulled your stations off of Time Warner cable. Hell hath no fury like a mid-thirties suburban mother of three denied her teen trash. We got our CBS and the CW back. I can watch teen trash to my heart's content and watch my DVRed shows on any one of three TVs! This relieves much of the spousal debate over television control during hockey season. I can retreat to the bedroom in peace to watch my silly shows without commentary. I am a happy woman. I am at peace. (And this has nothing to do with the fact that I can now stream recorded children's television into the playroom. Nothing at all, I swear.)

Halloween party, Ghosting and some Gossip Girl. Oh, Lovely weekend indeed.

Our Tyrant

Griffin popped out of the womb with a strong personality. He knows what he likes and dislikes. His personality is only amplified by being the third boy. He has learned to stick up for himself quickly and without fear. He does not back down. He seems himself as equal with his older brothers. If he sees his two brothers wrestling in a heap on the floor, Griffin will, without hesitation, get a running start and promptly jump right on top of the heap.

He's not a normal almost two year old. Except for the whole 'terrible two's' thing. As of the past week or so, Griffin has the terrible twos and he's got it bad. His new favorite way of communicating is yelling louder and louder to get what he wants. If he is denied whatever he is yelling about, he throws a tantrum intended to rival any other tantrum I've ever seen. (And, hell, I have two other kids, so trust me, I've seen some tantrums in my day.)

It's not pretty. It's loud. It's long. And it gives me one hell of a headache.

Brennan has had it with Griffin's tantrums. His solution? He screams right back at Griffin, until both of them are hollering and crying so loud that my neighbors are undoubtedly shaking their heads and contemplating calling the police.

This only gives me even more of a headache. From experience, I know this is all a phase, a temporary blip in Griffin's development, but I just hope it is a phase that falls on the shorter end of the things. (Please, dear God, let it be a quick and easy phase or else I really need to stock up on some Advil. And red wine. )

Flashback

When I picked Griffin up in his classroom today, they had a Wiggles CD playing in the background.

My eyes teared up. Tears! Over the Wiggles! I know. For most normal adults, the sound of the Wiggles singing "driving, driving, big red car" is akin to nails on a chalkboard. But it was an immediate nostalgic flashback for me.

Aidan adored the Wiggles at Griffin's age. ("Fruit Salad. Yummy, Yummy.") He loved their show, their movies and we listened to their music nonstop. ("Hot Potato, Hot Potato.") I knew we were a Wiggles family when Chris and I actually debated our favorite Wiggles song. (Yes, we have no life. I understand this. I do.) The Wiggles were a soundtrack to a very specific time in our life: Aidan at one, dancing, singing and giggling - like a sweet toddler boy.

That toddler is now a boy. A boy who as of two mornings ago stopped changing into his school uniform in the family room, and went into the bathroom and shut the door for privacy. A boy who begs to stay up for fifteen minutes after his bedtime to read books by the glow of a flashlight. A boy who told me he didn't want the Star Wars underwear Brennan and I picked out for him at Target because he prefers his plain and white - just like his Dad's. A boy.

This made me miss the Wiggles a little bit. I missed the baby boy seen in my Wiggles flashback.

We don't listen to the Wiggles anymore. Brennan and Griffin never really showed all that much interest in them. (They prefer non-age appropriate shows and songs. It's nice to have an older brother(s).)

Ice Time

The boys are still doing their Monday "hockey" nights in which they learn to stand upright on ice. I had a chance to catch up on their progress yesterday and was pretty amazed to see how far they have come in a month.

Aidan is learning to glide on the ice, take small jumps and quickly stop without falling.

Brennan is learning to stand on the ice, take small steps and manage balance. But, well, he still falls. He falls alot. After watching him fall for the umpteenth time, I think I realized something about Brennan. He likes to fall. He thinks falling is funny. And so he keeps on falling, just for the sheer fun of it. Sometimes, I think he falls just because he is bored and it gives him something to do. He also likes to catch people's expressions around him after a truly spectacular fall.

Thank God we got him knee pads or the kid would be black and bruised for life.

The ABCs

Griffin has followed in his big brother Brennan's footsteps as quite the singer. His particular favorites right now are renditions of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and ABCs. He has sung the death out of both songs over the last two or three weeks, but it never gets old in our family. We still giggle like lunatics at Griffin's quirky take on the words to each song and Chris and I still share a quick smile whenever we hear Griffin quietly singing in the next room.

Here is a glimpse of Griffin's take on the ABCs from this morning (with some help from big brother Brennan in the background near the end.)

The Sign

My neighbors put out a McCain/Palin election sign on their lawn last night. I didn't notice it until this morning and when I did, well, I felt, sort of, angry.

Not just angry really. It was more of a deep seated unbridled rage that had me plotting the entire ride to work. Could I make the sign disappear? Could I steal it under the cover of darkness? Should I report them to the local authorities? ( Yes, believe it or not, in our sweet ol' town of whoville we aren't allowed no political signs to mussy up our front yards, no siree. ) Or should I go and find the biggest, fattest, brightest OBAMA/BIDEN sign I can get my hands on and stick it front and center of my lawn?

It finally dawned on me that my husband is right. I may be just a bit over-emotionally involved in this election. I care too much. I fear too much. It has come to Chris begging me to please NOT watch the debate just so he won't have to hear all the yelling and screaming. (I can't even sit still when I watch. I pace back and forth like some sort of lunatic while I intermittently yell or mutter at the television. It's not pretty.)

I used to believe in intellectual discussion of ideas and issues. I always found the best way to understand my own views is to listen and consider those views counter to your own. But now? I don't want to hear it. Don't speak of it to me. I am too emotional. I am too attached. I can't rationally discuss a thing.

Election day seems a lifetime away. I may die of an ulcer by then. But until then, does anyone know where I can get a Obama sign? I am ready to incite a little neighborhood political angst.

Adventures with Apples and Some Pumpkins

We took the boys apple picking and hunting for pumpkins today. The apples were slim picking, but we managed enough to make a pie or two (or maybe three...) And then it was off to pick out some pumpkins ripe for carving for Halloween.

It was a beautiful day with skies of the bluest blue, without a cloud in sight. I hate to say it, but I am ready for the chill of fall. I would like to bust out the sweaters and bury myself under a soft blanket with a cup of cocoa. Until then though, we are soaking up our summer-like fall.

All Around Nice Day

Friday was an all around nice day in our house.

Aidan was home from school for some made up Catholic holiday. (and yes, we do pay tuition for the privilege of all these holidays.) The boys and I decided to take advantage of our amazing fall sunshine and blue skies and have our own soccer game in the front lawn. We set up goals with toys we found in the garage. Griffin was in goal for my team, right up until he decided the scooter acting as our goal post would be a little more fun than waiting for someone to make a shot on him.

After Griffin rode away with our goal post, Brennan opted to switch teams and come play with me. Aidan survived the lopsided teams by screaming "time out" anytime I got my feet on the ball. (good strategy, eh? He's a clever one.)

After we ended our tie game (3-3), we went for a walk and visited cousins in the neighborhood. We spent much quality time at my aunt's house so the boys could love up their dogs and then shamelessly beg and plead for our own dog. (Not ready for that one yet. I clean up enough urine from the humans in my family. I don't need to add dog pee to the mix. Not yet anyway.)

In the afternoon, the boys and I settled in for Charlie Brown's Halloween special and some nice cuddling on the playroom couch.

We topped off the day with a date night at the Sabres home opener. Dinner, visiting with some friends, first win of the season - all good.

I Would Never Make it in Politics...or at Poker for that Matter.

I have an inability to hide my feelings. I tend to show anything and everything I am feeling on my face. And if you can't guess from watching my facial expressions, then I will, most likely, engage in some verbal faux pas that will hint at my true emotion.

I am often told by my work colleagues that I would suck at poker. It made me a terrible trial lawyer. And to be honest, I'm not all that good at negotiating either. (See why I do this intellectual property law stuff? See? It keeps the trial stuff and the negotiating thingies at bay.)

Lately, I have had a slight (ahem) dislike for a person for whom I work. A person I find both rude, somewhat crazy, a little socially awkward and a whole lot incompetent at their job. (This is one of the pluses of having a password protected blog. I can dish a little more about real life.)

Today this person called me to discuss an ongoing project. I only had a minute to talk because I was scheduled to get on a conference call with a client in five minutes, but in hopes of wrapping things up with this person I told them I could do a quick status check.

And then I said, "I can go over this quickly with you, because, well, I know how crazy you are..."

Long pause. I let out a huge belly laugh. Then I finished with "I mean crazy busy that is."

This person didn't find my comment as funny as I did. But the person in the office next to me did. After I ended the call, he walked in my office, laughed and said, "Passive aggressive much?"

I guess I would never make it in politics either.

Snuggles Wrapped in Fleece

Brennan slept in this morning. I finally had to go upstairs to peek in his bedroom to wake him up. (Why is it my children always, ALWAYS sleep in on the days I work? Why? Let it happen just once on a Saturday. Just once. That's all I'm askin'.)

As I peeked into his bedroom door, his eyes opened slowly and he gave me a sleepy smile. He stretched his arms out from under his cushy fleece blanket and gave a huge yawn. I quietly crawled into bed next to him and snuggled him in my arms.

He was so warm and soft, bundled up in snowman fleece pajamas under a thick fleece blanket. I could have eaten him up.

After a moment, he smiled at me and said softly, "Momma, I am so comfy right now."

"Me too, B. Me too." I answered as I hugged him close.

It was a good way to start my day.

Sunday Worship

Aidan woke me up at 6:45 this morning by whispering in my ear.

"Mom. Mom?"

"Yes, I'm up, Aidan. I'm getting up. " I said with a sigh as I glanced at the clock.

"Mom, could you buy me a bible?"

"What?" I whisper back.

"A bible. Could we get one?"

"Um, sure, honey. I can get you a bible. Why?"

"I want to learn more about God." He whispers fervently in my ear.

It was an appropriate way to welcome a Sunday morning.

Picture of a Saturday

One giant group hug pre-Saturday soccer.

After soccer, the little brothers revolt and torture the big brother.

A Band of Ragamuffins

My cousin Nicole just stopped over to see if she could take the boys to the playground. I was so eager to have fifteen minutes of quiet in the house that I practically pushed the kids out the door with her.

As they walked away, I admired their collective fashion ensemble. Aidan is wearing sweatpants he outgrew last year that barely touch his ankle. Hello boy capri sweats! Brennan has his pants on backwards. (I noticed it before nap, but I was just too damn tired to put up a fight. He insists he prefers his pants on backwards. Sometimes you just have to pick and choose your battles carefully.) And then there was Griffin outfitted in hand me down sweatpants gaping at the waist, from being at least two sizes too big, topped off with a fleece jacket so small that it barely has three quarter sleeves.

My little traveling band of ragamuffins.

Just Another Sunny Morning

Aidan woke me up this morning complaining that his socks were wet after going into the boys’ bathroom. With bleary eyes, I walked into the bathroom and discovered that the floor was indeed, wet. Someone not to be named apparently had poor mid-evening aim and sprayed the entire bathroom with pee. Lots and lots of pee. Lovely.

Aidan claims he didn’t do it. I know for sure Griffin didn’t do it. I would most likely place my bets on Brennan as the culprit. The boy just can’t seem to keep it in the bowl. No matter how much I plead. There ain’t nothing like starting your day by mopping up buckets of urine. (No one tells you how much of motherhood involves bodily fluids, do they?)

After cleaning up the mess, getting everyone dressed and fed, and putting together our assigned snack for Aidan’s class, Chris and I race out of the house to divvy up the kids for drop off. After the door shuts behind me, I realized I left my car keys in the house. I ask Chris for his key. He gave his house key to my mom yesterday to get Aidan off the bus.

We are locked out of the house, in the pouring rain, with all three children.

We get ourselves and the kids in the garage. I frantically call my mother to ask her to run over with her key to our house. After my mother rescues us, Aidan and I are off to his school to drop off snack. We remember snack, but I forget the tuition check due today. I get Aidan settled and then race out of school into pouring rain to get the tuition check. I hurry back to school to drop off the check, walking as quickly as I can manage, when I slip on the wet floor and fall flat on my ass.

I recover, drive to work and park my car. As I cross the roof of the parking ramp, the guy walking in front of me leans over and pukes all over the ground. He continues to vomit as I walk quickly past him, horrified.

He manages to keep up right behind me on the walk to the building even though he had stopped to take his little vomit break. I normally ride the escalator up to the lobby level of my building at a leisurely pace. Today, I literally ran up the escalator at Olympic rates of speed in order to get away from vomit man and his surely contagious deadly stomach virus. I am both sweating and out of breath from the exertion when I get into the elevator. (and also praying that the stomach flu germs stay far, far away from me.)

Later that day, I pick Brennan up from school and his teacher warns me that three children were sent home from his class with the stomach flu. Ugh. The stomach flu just may well be stalking our house. (again.) In Griffin's room, I am greeted with the news that two kiddies have strep throat. Good, good to know, thanks.

I am so distracted by this news that I don't realize we forget to put Griffin's blanket in his backpack. I spend fifteen minutes searching the house for it at bedtime until it finally dawns on me: the blanket is at school.

Griffin has never slept without his blanket. Not a nap, not a night - never. I cried right along with him as I rocked him to sleep once, twice and thankfully, a third and final time.

I have never been so glad to say goodnight to a day.