Memorial Day

We celebrated Memorial Day and its bright summer sunshine at our neighbor's backyard bash. Margaritas, diving competitions and brand new super soakers. Summer celebration at its best.

Take Me Out to TOO Many Ball Games

Three boys, three different little league teams. Oh holy hell. I knew not what awaited us in the spring of little league when I registered all three of my boys for baseball so enthusiastically this past January. But then the schedules rolled out and I sat down with my calendar to input the baseball schedules into our life. Three boys on three different teams equals a whole lot of baseball.

(Too much if you ask my opinion. But nobody is asking.)

I did look at the massive amounts of games, practices and little league stuff on our calendar, shake my head and immediately call my dear husband to commiserate the fate of our spring. After discussing it, we decided that we needed to make sure that the boys truly loved baseball and wanted to play little league, rather than falling into the trap of just doing it because everyone else seems to be doing it.

I gleefully considered that one, two or all of my boys may end up hating little league so much that they wouldn’t even want to sign up next year. I considered this so joyfully as Chris and I set up camp at the baseball fields on opening day, preparing for a marathon day of games upon games. We got to the diamonds around noon, and I knew we wouldn’t be home until after 7 pm. (We got home around 8 that night. In fact, we ate both lunch and dinner at those fields. And treats. And drinks. Damn, that concession stand does a mean business.)

But, here’s the thing. The boys loved it. Every single one of them had a ball.

Brennan had the first game on his Pee Wee Texas Rangers team. He played first base and scored the first out of the game. After the game, the coach called all the players over to the side of the field and presented Brennan with the game ball. My little B. It was a moment for him. He was so proud of his ball that he refused to let it go for the rest of the day and night.

Aidan had the second game on his Minors Cincinnati Reds team. I will confidentially admit that I enjoyed watching Aidan’s game the most. It was the first time I had ever seen one of my children play a *real” game that was actually competitive. Up until this point, the sports we have done are still in the cooperative and learning category, so they tend towards the fun, rather than keeping score. I was cheering and yelling just like a crazy sports Mom. And Aidan gave me a lot to cheer about. (I was cheering so much that I forgot to take any pics!)

It surprised the hell out of me to discover that Aidan can really play baseball. He scored outs, caught and threw balls with ease, and was quite the presence on the diamond. I could not believe it. I even overheard two of the parents asking who he was after a spectacularly good pop fly out he caught in his glove.

(Instead of pretending I hadn’t heard them discussing him like any cool mom would do, I smiled a HUGE smile and yelled “He’s mine! That’s my son! That’s my Aidan!” I make a lot of friends at these games.)

Our last game of the day was our Griffin on his Tee Ball New York Yankees team. He was just the cutest little player ever and possibly the most adorable catcher in the history of tee-ball. Tee ball is pure fun to watch. There is no competition, just a whole lot of laughs as the kids try to figure out which way to run on the bases and what do to with the ball if you actually get it in the glove. Griffin had a great time at his first ever official team sporting event.

Over the last few weeks we have been juggling the insanity of our spring baseball schedule as best we can. It has been made a bit easier due to the weeks of rain outs for both practices and games. But I see a few more marathon sessions at the fields in our near future, both this year, and probably many more to come. Game on.

Hilton Head 2011

As our group of friends was getting close to hitting the big milestone of 40, we made a collective decision that we would usher in the big 4-0 with a trip. A trip, chosen by the birthday celebrant, at which we would all partake.

This was Chris's year of 40.

At first, he started looking at adventure camps in Costa Rica that involved peeing outdoors, living in a tent and windsurfing. When I gently reminded him that he should probably pick something a little more agreeable to a group of friends (indoor plumbing and a tennis court maybe?), he decided he wanted to golf.

Golf it is! Our friend Dylan mentioned the lovely town of Hilton Head, South Carolina as a possible destination. Apparently, there is a lot of golfing in Hilton Head and a very fancy golf course which hosts some very fancy golfers that people watch on tv. I just heard beach! tennis! a kids free vacation!

Hilton Head it is! Happy 40 to my hubbie!

My dear brother Travis and wonderful sister in law Lynda agreed to move from their hip downtown lifestyle to the suburbs to live in our colonial, drive our mom-obile and parent our three kids and the dog. (They knew not what they had done. But I was not about to tell them. But I did thank them profusely. And I will continue to do so. Because, yes, they are the sweetest, most generous people to have done this for us.)

And off we went. We boarded a plane with our friends Dylan, Christine, PJ and Danielle to five whole days of kidless bliss. We were all a bit giddy.

Hilton Head is beautiful. It is green and lush, marked with paths carved out of a forest of trees. By the end of our trip, I was in love with Hilton Head. I even told Chris that I could imagine retiring there someday. It reminds me of the natural beauty of the northeast beach towns, but with a southern charm (and warmer weather.)

We stayed at the Inn at Harbour Town, a beautiful, small boutique inn with a golf course at its back and a slew of tennis courts and a tennis resort at its front. We had found our nirvana! Game on.

We spent five days doing whatever we wanted. The guys golfed five rounds of golf at pristine, championship courses. The women indulged in two hour tennis clinics each morning. (Well, I missed one day of clinics because I tripped down a bunch of stairs and sprained my ankle. I endured the "cankle", spent a day resting and reading, and was back out on the courts the next day. I know. I am shockingly graceful.) We spent each afternoon at the beach, napping or reading, watching people and enforcing a happy hour starts at 4 pm rule with frozen frothy drinks.

I loved the time with my friends. They can make me laugh until I cry. I am very blessed to have amazing friends in my life. We can talk about anything and everything, but also enjoy companionable silence while enjoying the view on a pristine beach. We are all so content with each other, a comfortableness that is usually only found in friendships of a lifetime.

But even more, I loved the time with my husband. It was a gift to have such a large chunk of time away from our crazy lives to just be ourselves with each other. Time to appreciate each other, to laugh with each other, and to fall in love with each other all over again.

I think that is the best birthday present any person could hope for any year, 40 or not.

Next year is my big 4-0. There is talk of Greek Islands in our future. 40 may not be so bad after all.

Recovering

The last month or so has been a bit busy. It started with a bang in April, after a moment of foolish volunteering that led me to chairing up the boys' school's basket auction for springfest. Me, who had never even put together a basket before was in charge of almost a hundred of those things. I learned quickly that clear packing tape makes everything look prettier.

Basket mania ate up a few weeks of our lives and then led us to a week before we went away to Florida for vacation. We came back from vacation and started little league. Three boys, three different teams. We are wracking up some serious quality time at the little league fields. On opening day, we ate both lunch and dinner at the little league fields.

And then two weeks after we get back from Florida, Chris and I were on the road again, but this time for an adults only extravaganza. Five days with no children. Just us, a few dear friends, a beach, a whole lot of tennis and golf, and a few margaritas mixed in for fun.

It was five days of paradise. Oh, the silence. The blessed silence of living in a hotel room with only your husband and nobody demanding a juice box or watching marathons of Cake Boss. There was also a whole lot of laughter. Laughter of friends, relaxed and simply soaking up every last moment of our vacation. We ate alot. We drank quite a bit. And we had whole afternoons where we did nothing but nap on the beach.

I love the naps on the beach.

It had to end. And we timed our ending so perfectly. We got home with one day to plan our hosting thirty family members at our house for brunch to celebrate Aidan's First Communion. I am really good at planning out our calendar to allow for maximum stress. It's a gift.

I was just grateful that the non-ending rain spared us from spending that day at three little league games, allowing us to actually clean the house and cook up some brunch fixings.

But now, the trips are over. (So sad.) Aidan has accepted his first communion and the family brunch has been survived. I hope we are settling in for our standard summer of pool, tennis, golf and our summer family fun list.

If only we can get through the rest of little league and the damn rain would stop already.

The Next American Idol

Not only does Griffin love music, but he has evolved into quite a singer. He sings around the house constantly. Sometimes his singing is for his own pure enjoyment and other times it is purely to annoy the hell out of his brothers. But sing, he does, day in and day out.

But as Griffin is our third child, the music he knows is not the music of of most four year old children, the likes of Dan Zanes and Laurie Berkner. No, Griffin's music is my music. And this makes for some very funny four year old singing.

I have already mentioned his love for Gaga, especially Born this Way. I don't think Chris has yet recovered from hearing Griffin sing "Don't be a drag, just be a queen" around the house. It has provided my cousins with endless delight to hear G belt out some Gaga.

This morning Griffin and I were the first ones up in the house. Griffin excused himself from breakfast to go to the bathroom. He shut the bathroom door and promptly got down to business. Through the shut door, I heard him humming and then he launched into a full scale performance of "Teenage Dream."

I am not sure that Chris is ready to hear his four year old singing "Let's go all the way tonight. No regrets. Just love." But sing he did. I just hope he isn't singing it for his preschool buddies at school today.

Coveting Bunkbeds

During our normal spring break trip to Florida, we stay with my grandparents. This usually requires that the boys spend most of the trip sleeping on the floor. But this year the stars aligned and school breaks overlapped, thus allowing the whole entire cult that is our family to head to the beach at the same time. In order to deal with the mass influx of visitors, my grandparents very kindly and generously rented condos for each family for their stay.

The boys and I spent the first part of our vacation at my grandparents. After Chris arrived, we moved into the rental. At the first sight of the second bedroom with twin beds, the boys went crazy. Their own room! With actual beds! And to top it all off, their own tv! (While yes, we are a tv loving family and all that, we hold firm on the no tvs in the bedroom policy, much to our boys' disappointment.)

At their incredible display of enthusiasm, I realized that this might just be the first time on vacation that they actually had beds instead of sleeping bags or air mattresses. Poor babies.

But, all celebrating aside, the room did only have two twin beds for three boys. So yes, once again, someone had to sleep on the floor.

After twenty minutes of arguing, pleading and negotiating, Griffin sweetly agreed to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag. One week and that boy never complained about the sleeping arrangements. Not a peep.

As we were driving home from the airport, I turned to Griffin and said, "G! You must be so excited to get your bedroom back and sleep in your own bed instead of on the floor."

Griffin looked at me sadly and shook his head. Then he said, "No. You know Mom, when I am in my room all alone I really miss my brothers. I get lonely. Do you think you could get me bunkbeds and then I could live in one of their rooms?"

My sigh over my third baby boy's sweetness was barely audible over his brothers' immediate yelling of "NO!"

It's tough to be the third boy.

Florida 2011 : Margaritas, Lizards and Vomit oh my.

The annual pilgrimage to the beaches of Florida has, once again, come and gone too quickly. This year the boys and I headed out to Florida a few days earlier than Chris. It was my effort to avoid having to drive all the live long day and some to Florida once we found out airfares were going to cost an arm and a leg. I volunteered (not all that reluctantly) to head down a bit earlier to get cheaper faress, taking the boys with me, while Chris stayed up North suffering through the winter that just will never end.

I was a little worried about flying with the boys without Chris, but they were champs. Each boy handled their own luggage (cutest little roller bags ever) and got many a smile as they walked through the baggage claim area. We survived the longest wait ever for the rental car and a big meltdown over seating assignments in the back seat. I thought we were golden and pictured my toes already in the sand, when Brennan uttered those famous last words, “Momma, my stomach doesn’t feel so good.”

Two minutes later, he leaned over Griffin and projectile vomited all over him once, twice, and three or four more times until poor G was just covered in a whole bunch of vomit. Griffin started screaming. Brennan started screaming. Aidan covered his eyes in horror and I pulled off to the side of the highway as fast as I could manage.

I tried to grab Brennan out of the back seat to keep him from throwing up again, but I forgot he was still buckled into the seat. Hilarious vomited covered seatbelt wrestling ensued.

Two kids covered in puke, a back seat with buckets of quickly drying, smelling puke, and a couple of screaming kids two or so hours into vacation is never a good sign.

But we rallied. I got the suitcases out of the trunk and found clean clothes. Everyone got cleaned up. I thanked goodness that I always travel with Clorox wipes which made the clean up of the backseat much easier (and much better smelling.) And we all discovered that a Nintendo DS that has been covered in vomit will, amazingly, still work if you clean it off right away.

I had my first margarita of vacation approximately one half hour later. I deserved it.

All was good at the beach. The sun was shining, the water was soothing, the sand was perfect. We had a perfect day or so until Aidan uttered those famous last words, “Mommy, my stomach hurts.”

(I swear, I hear those words and my tension level just rockets through the roof because I know what’s coming. And it is never, ever good.)

We celebrated night two of vacation with many trips to the bathroom as Aidan vomited for about 12 or so hours. It isn’t vacation until someone pukes at 2 am, right?!

It was at this point that I pondered my wisdom of taking vacation early with the kids. Driving may have been better after all.

But after incident two of vomiting was over, we all remained, blissfully, stomach ache free. It was ten days of fun, surf and sand. Chris joined us three days into vacation. We had a rare year of my entire family eventually joining up at the beach. The beach is always perfect, but add in my grandparents, mom, brothers, sisters in law, aunts, uncles and cousins and well, it is almost a utopia. A utopia where they serve margaritas.

We saw manatees swim right by in the surf while the boys were on the sand bar. Dolphins jumped just feet in front of us for a private show. The boys caught a lizard with their cousin Liam. The lizard was quickly named Tim and lived on my grandparent’s deck for a day or so until he jumped to his death off the ledge. (In that day and a half, my grandmother fed Tim and made him a little house. She also checked on him periodically. At hearing from Brennan that Tim the lizard jumped off the balcony, my grandmother shook her head and commented, “Well, there just wasn’t anything else we could have done to make Tim feel more welcome.”)

We spent entire days on the beach, getting there at 9 or 10 am and staying to watch the sun go down. The boys never wanted to leave. They found so much to do at the beach. There were sand dollars to discover, sand castles to build, clams to dig, shell seeking to do, waves to jump, boogie boards to ride, and much, much family to play Frisbee, football, catch, swim, build or walk. (Add in a family that believes in munchies and cocktail hours at about 4 pm and it makes it hard to ever want to leave the beach.) It was a dream vacation.

My cousin Nicole offered to take the boys one night so we could enjoy an adult night out. Our quiet, casual adult night out with family evolved to the night of a thousand giant margaritas, that saw us dancing at the Daquiri Deck (there was no dance floor) and laughing so hard my cheeks hurt.

Our last night on vacation was also the night of our family dinner with the entire group of us. My grandparents hosted a cocktail hour on the golf course where we took a family picture, followed by a sit down dinner. It was a beautiful event, made all the more special because the room was full of all those people we love. It is impossible to not feel truly blessed after sharing a vacation with our family.

When we left, I asked the boys if they had a good time. Aidan told me they did, but he said it went too fast. Vacation always does, I told him.

“Ten days just isn’t enough Mom. I think next year we should go for twenty days.” He told me wistfully.

If I can negotiate a moratorium on vomiting, I think I could definitely swing twenty days next year.

A Perfect Companion

A few weeks ago, Aidan and Brennan were scheduled to have a half day at school. Griffin had a full day of school and Brennan was invited to a birthday party. I asked Aidan if he wanted me to set up a play date for him while his brothers were otherwise engaged. Aidan sighed, smiled and said, "You know what I would really like to do, Mom?" I shook my head no. "I would love it if we could just go to the bookstore, just the two of us, and wander around looking at books. Wouldn't that be great?" He smiled shyly at me as I looked at him in wonder. Is it possible that through my oldest child I may have created a perfect companion for me? No one else that I know could possibly love bookstores as much as me, but now, I have someone who does! (When I relayed this story to Chris, I told him that when Aidan mentioned the bookstore, it was if the clouds parted with the sun gleaming through and I heard angels singing in the background. He told me I was being a bit dramatic. I do not think that is possible.) And so off we went, my oldest child and I, to the closest mega-Barnes and Noble. We browsed the stacks, discussed plots and personal favorites, grabbed arms full of books and retreated to the coffee shop. We sat in side by side overstuffed chairs, me with my coffee and Aidan with his hot chocolate, and perused our selections. After a few minutes, Aidan looked up at me and asked, "Mom, can I sit on your lap?" I could have cried from the sweetness of my almost nine year old boy snuggling into my lap as we looked at books together. Yes, the clouds parted, the sun gleamed through, and angels sang. May my perfect companion never get too old to want to wander a bookstore and snuggle onto my lap.

Grif's friend Zach and Other Adventures

Griffin has an imaginary friend named Zach. I take it as a personal sign of my superior mothering skills that it took me about a month of stories about G's imaginary friend to actually realize, well, that he was, you know, imaginary. (Okay, okay, it was Griffin's story after school yesterday that Zach climbed up onto the roof of his house, jumped off and broke his leg that clued me in. I am nothing if not observant.)

Apparently Zachary lives next door to us, likes to ride his bike, and worries alot about Griffin having another best friend named "Ryan." (Ryan is real. I swear.) Griffin can give so many intricate details about Zach and their mutual adventures that Chris and I could not stop asking for more stories about Zach. Zach is quite a character. I love that Griffin has the imagination to come up with the friend and all the stories. It charms me.

In other Griffin news, last night he also demanded a book to read.

"I am tired of just looking at pictures in my books Mom. I want to read like Aidan and Brennan!" He announced after dinner.

So I dug out a few of Brennan's sight word books from the beginning of this school year and taught Griffin a couple of the words. He was estatic. Completely overjoyed to have his own books that he could read. He read them to me, read them to Chris, and read them to Aidan and Brennan. He slept with them next to him, brought them down to breakfast and immediately upon their arrival this morning, read them to Chris's parents.

It is hard to believe that this child has another year to go before kindergarten.

And in even more Griffin related news, Griffin's favorite new song is none other than Lady Gaga's "Born this Way." He can sing the entire song by heart, while busting a move. I loved it right up until I realized he was wandering the house singing "Don't be a drag, just be a Queen."

Probably not what you want your four year old singing at preschool. We may have to go back to Glee. I bet Zach would love some Glee Karaoke.

Busy, Busy, Busy Day

After a packed day at work, I raced out of the office to pick up Griffin at preschool. My mom met me in the parking lot at the doctor's office with Aidan and Brennan. And I took all three with me to the doctor's office to finally get Brennan and Griffin's annual check up. (Yes, it does get a little later each year. Next year, we may have their yearly check ups in August.)

Griffin was dramatically upset over the thought of having shots and instantly burst into tears at seeing his pediatrician. He would not be thrilled to discover he needed all of four shots. He screamed like a banshee, kicking, screaming, yelling and howling. Boy has a flair for the drama. (This is the same child who cried for like a week after his flu shot. I would tell him he was fine and he would look at me with tears in his eyes and say, "I can still see her putting the needle into my arm Mommy." I see Academy award potential in his future.)

Brennan handled the whole experience like a champ. He answered all the questions directly from the doctor, with no help from me. He was such a boy, all grown up at six years old.

They are both healthy and well. Brennan is growing like a week. He grew four inches this past year and is currently in the 97 % for height. Griffin is in the 90% for height. Tall little boys indeed.

After the doctor's office brigade, we met Chris for dinner at Moe's. (Kids eat free on Tuesdays. Yipee!) And then we were off to the boys' school for Student Presentation Night and Ice Cream Social.

The theme was fairy tales. Both boys were proud to display their artwork - Aidan, a wanted poster for the Witch in Hansel and Gretel and Brennan, a picture of Jack the Beanstalk.

Religion

Religion is a tricky thing. Chris and I are not super religious people, but we willingly send our boys to a Catholic school, even in a district with a pretty amazing public school system. We love the little Catholic school. It's small. The children are sweet. It feels like one big family. I also like that my children are getting some exposure to religion that they would not otherwise get at home. It starts a dialogue about things that I want my children to think about and question.

Brennan came home last week and talked about how God created him and he thinks Brennan is special.

"You are special B." I said.

"Well, why doesn't God talk to me?" He asked.

"He does. He just doesn't talk out loud. He talks to your heart." I replied.

Brennan got very quiet, closed his eyes and put his hand over his heart. After a minute, he smiled and whispered, "I hear him!"

"You do? What did he say?" I asked.

"He told me he is in here." Brennan gave me a knowing smile and ran off to play.

I hope this sweet moment of religion in our daily lives almost makes up for me forgetting it was Lent, then forgetting it was a Friday in Lent and sending two of my children to Catholic school with ham sandwiches for lunch on Friday. I am an ace Catholic parent.

Boxes and String

We have too many toys. My boys have toys they received as gifts at Christmas that have not yet been opened. We have games that have yet to be played, lego sets waiting to be built, and crafts sets growing dusty on shelves.

It is insane. We are not toy buyers. I do not buy the boys toys as prizes when we are at stores. Instead, the boys really only receive presents from us on their birthdays and holidays. But we have two very kind and generous sets of grandmas, many a sweet aunt and uncle and even a set of doting great-grandparents. It can lead to a whole lot of overflowing toy bins and closets.

It fascinates me that in the midst of this toy nirvana, my boys can still utter the words, "I have nothing to do." I point out all the shelves of toys just dying to be played with and they shrug their shoulders with disinterest.

It can drive a mom batty.

Last week, Griffin and I were at Wegmans and he asked me if I would buy him a ball of string. I threw it in the cart on a whim. When we got home, the boys were obsessed with the string. They have built forts with it, played airplane with it, tied up stuffed animals with it, and used it to catapault anything and everything they can think of from the second story foyer. The string is a hit. We are on week two and the string has not gotten old. The string is played with every single day. The string has staying power.

Add the string to the legions of recycled packing boxes and discarded shoe boxes the boys hoard for many a made up game of build, war or fort and well, I have realized something.

The best toys aren't the ones we buy at Toys r Us or Target. The best toys are the ones my children create all on their own. String and boxes. That is all it takes to keep my children occupied for hours at a time.

And it cost me all of $2.00.

Gaga!

I know who Lady Gaga is. I mean, I would have to be living in cave not to know who she is. (Although often, parenthood can seem like a cave when it comes to knowledge of timely popular culture.) But I am not all that familiar with her music. I know it is popular and dance like, but beyond my affection for Glee's rendition of Poker Face (love!), I couldn't name one of her songs.

My very good, dear friend from high school, Tracey, happens to tour with Lady Gaga. She is a photographer and takes pictures for Gaga of all her "little monsters." The last time I saw Tracey, she mentioned that she was so excited for their upcoming Buffalo tour date, but bummed that she only got two tickets per show because she would pass those on to her parents. I told her not to worry, because while I would love the chance to see Tracey work, I am not a Gaga person.

Fast forward to this week. Tracey texts me on Tuesday that there is a chance she may be able to get me into the show, but first she wants to make sure I can go. I tell her I can go and while I would love to see her and catch her in her work environment working her magic, I didn't want her to go to any great lengths on my behalf since I could not pick Gaga out of a line up. Tracey tells me she will be in touch. One day before the sold out show, Tracey texts me that I have floor passes for me and a friend.

Floor passes! I wasn't sure I was even cool enough for any of this. But I adore my friend Tracey and really wanted to cheer her on in something that had become very important to her. So I gussied myself up, picked up my friend Christine, and off we went to Gaga. (In contrast to me, Christine is in love with Gaga. I figured that at least half of our contingent should have some Gaga knowledge! And well, Chris absolutely refused to go. That is not a shocker.)

We got to the arena early, in order to spend time watching Tracey at her make-shift rock star photography studio for the Little Monsters. It was unbelievable to see the costumes, the fans and the talents of my dear friend from high school as she caught the unique beauty in each and every fan. Tracey also looked like a rock star. (This is the same friend that had me camp out at her house for a weekend in high school so we could make a video to send to Kirk Cameron asking him to take her to the prom. ) Tracey had also had a lot of local press on her gig, so she was generating quite a lot of excitement among the fans. There is nothing that we like in Buffalo more than a hometown gal doing good.

After the photography studio shut down for the night, we hung out with Tracey during the opening act. She introduced us to much of the crew also on tour with Gaga, including the woman who runs the social network side of the business for Gaga. I found it all incredibly interesting. But when we heard the first opening chords, Tracey yelled, "Let's go!" and pulled us out to the entrance leading to the floor of the arena.

It was unbelievable. Incredible. Amazing. Any and every adjective that I could think of to describe that moment would not do it justice. To look up and around you and see 18,000 dancing fans, to be amongst such passion, to be so close to a fantastic performance - it was all awe-inspiring. I loved the show. I loved her message of acceptance, of tolerance, of beauty being found in everyone, no matter who you are or what you look like. Yes, she's a little crazy and a whole lot of out there, but well, I think I like her. And above all, I was truly impressed with her voice and musical talent. She sings every note. There is no lip synching, no posturing. She gives it all, from singing to dancing to playing a bunch of instruments - all amazing.

At the end of the night, Christine turned to me and said, "I don't think I am every going to be able to describe how amazing this was. No one will every really understand."

She's right.

I probably can't do it justice. But I do know that I am going to be adding some Gaga songs to my ipod mix today and probably dancing around my living room.

Gleeful

My kids get a whole load of Glee music around the house. I can't help it. I love a good song changed up to be a show tune. It's a quirky weakness of mine. I often like the re-done, Glee-ed up, versions of the songs, better than the original. It speaks to the music geek in me.

Griffin, in particular, has a fondness for Glee. Through Glee, he has learned (too) many Journey songs and can bust quite a move to Teenage Dream. A few weeks ago, I caught him singing along with the song Only Exception when it came on in Wegmans. (The cashier got quite a kick out of his knowing the words.) But my personal favorite is Defying Gravity.

Defying Gravity is a tremendous song. I love the original version from Wicked and I adore the Glee-ed up version too. I sing it alot around the house and I can rock it on Glee Karaoke. (Don't judge me.) I didn't know that Griffin cared for it as much as I did until I heard him singing up in his room.

"La La la Debuying Gabitty. Fly so high. Debuying Gabitty. You won't bring me down! Debuying Gabitty..."

"Griffin!" I call to him.

"What?" He yells back.

"What are you singing?"

"I am singing Debuying Gabitty Mom!" He says in a slightly annoyed, of course you should know the answer, voice.

Debuying Gabity! He makes me so proud.

Winter Break 2011: Good Riddance

I have to be honest. I sort of hate winter break. It feels like the kids are just getting settled back into their school routine, when bam!, suddenly they are off from school for a week in the middle of winter.

And who doesn't want their children home with them for a week in subzero temps after a nice long winter? Blah. It's almost like a punishment to the parents.

As is our ritual, I work with two friends to cover each other's working days. It is our version of a child care co-op and it has worked fabulously for us over the last few years.

On Monday, I had my boys and two other children, our friends Ellie and Casey. After a morning of play around the house, we went to a very packed movie theatre to see Gnomeo and Juliet where we tested the free refill policy of the giant popcorn bucket. Free refills, hurray!

On Tuesday, my boys went to my friend Angela's house to play with her son David. They played a whole lot of Wii and went out to lunch at a local restaurant that features indoor games and hockey.

On Wednesday, my boys went to my friend Christine's house to play with their friends Ellie and Casey. They made homemade cotton candy, went out to lunch and built snow forts in their backyard.

On Thursday, the boys were home with Chris's parents, where they soaked up a day of playing in their pjs.

On Friday, I had my friend Angela's son David, with my boys. After a morning of Wii and air hockey, we went out to lunch and ice cream and spent the afternoon sledding in our backyard.

And now break is over. I think the boys are more tired after break started. I know I am, but we survived. I have a feeling that I am going to like Spring Break a whole lot better than winter break. The beach, the waves and giant margaritas - now that is a break I can get behind.

Cake Boss

The boys are in love with the show Cake Boss on TLC. I love that it is a show that we can watch together and actually, have all of us find it interesting. On a recent Cake Boss airing, the boys saw that the next show was a cooking show hosted by Buddy of Cake Boss. They begged to watch it and I agreed.

Cake Boss ended and Kitchen Boss started up. After a few minutes of watching the cooking show, Aidan turned to me and said, "I'm confused. How did Buddy get from his bakery to the kitchen in his house so fast? We just saw him there!"

Ah, the wonders of television.

A Family Kind of Weekend

We soaked up some family time this weekend. The boys did not have their normal Saturday basketball game because it was school break, so we took the opportunity to cheer on my cousin Nicole's basketball game for Nardin High School. We chatted with my aunts, my brother Travis and my sister in law Lynda, while we hooted and hollered for Nikki's starting basketball prowess. (She is fairly amazing.)

After basketball, we went out to lunch with Travis and Lynda. And then after eating more pizza than we should have, we decided to try the cupcake bar at the bakery down the street. The boys were entranced with the cake creations at this bakery. They oohed and ahhed so much that the owner stopped her cake project and came up front to talk to the boys about how she makes cakes. After impressing them with her gigantic gorilla cake topper (made out of rice krispies!), she then asked them if they had ever seen Star Wars.

Star Wars? It turns out the bakery owner was selected to compete on Food Network's cake battles to turn out a Star Wars themed cake. The boys were in love. The love only grew when they slid up to the cupcake bar to pick out their flavor cupcake, their type of frosting and their toppings. Even I admit to being a bit giddy as I watched the attendant frost my red velvet cupcake with from scratch cream cheese frosting. Yum.

On Sunday, we continued our family theme of a weekend and had my brothers, sisters in law and my mom over for a lasagna dinner. Travis hooked up his XBox Kinext and battles were fought over sports, bowling and well, maybe even a little bit of dancing. I am just sad we didn't have a chance to break out my Glee Karaoke. Next time.

It was a wonderful weekend enjoying quality time with the people who matter most. It's all about family. It always should be.

Griffin's Imaginary Monster

"Mom, you know what?" Griffin asks me before bed as I tuck him under the covers.

"What?" I ask, giving him a kiss on his forehead.

"I have a monster."

"You do?"

"Yes. He is really big and blue and he has antlers that come out of his head like this!" Griffin gestures to the top of his forehead while he simultaneously makes a scary face.

"Wow. Is he a good monster?"

"Yes. He is a nice monster. He is my friend!"

"That's good, then."

"Yes. But he does like to eat moose."

"Moose?"

"Yes. Moose. He eats them right up!" Griffin pauses, then cocks his head to the side and asks, "Are moose good or bad?"

"Um. well, I guess moose can be either good or bad."

"Oh. Well, my monster eats them good and bad. Just moose though."

"Good to know."

A furry blue moose eating monster. I have not one clue where this one came from. Not a clue.

Ski Bums

While Chris was in Jackson Hole snow boarding his head off and hiking to peaks of mountains, the boys were learning to ski and snowboard in our little ski hill at KB. Given that I do not ski, (well, I can, but I sort of hate it) I was very proud of myself for getting all three kiddies and their ski/snowboard gear out of the house on time to make all three of their lessons.

I felt like Super Mom. And I only yelled once. Really!

The boys have grown tremendously this season. Aidan is now in the "mountain" group and spends his two hour lesson snowboarding runs with his instructor all over the place. Brennan is snowboarding his way through the bunny hill (only one lesson away from joining Aidan on the mountain.) And Griffin is learning to snowplow and turn.

Griffin is still unsure of the whole skiing thing. He does it because his brothers do it and his best buddy Ryan is there in the lesson with him, but he still gripes a bit about going each time. Aidan and Brennan seem to love it. Brennan tells me it is "exhausting," but he always seems happy to be on the hill. Aidan never wants to leave. He loves that he is now chair lifting and snowboarding all by himself. It is quite a sight to see.

As a mom, I love how worn out they all are by the time their lessons are complete. Anything that can get all three of them to agree that they are wiped out is a good investment.

My mini ski bums and I survived Chris's guy snowboard trip without incident. As I mentioned last year, every year it gets easier. And for that, I have to thank my three sweet little guys who behaved admirably well in their father's absence and even shut my bedroom door on Saturday morning to let me sleep in as they built giant forts outside their bedrooms.

I think I will keep them.

Stealing a Day

I stole Saturday. I didn't plan it. We were all set to head out into the blustery, snowy winter day to go to the boys' basketball game and then maybe a stop off at the library to stock up on books. But as we got closer to the time we had to leave, the boys begged me to let them stay home and skip basketball just this once. I knew we probably should go, but sometimes the things you should do aren't necessarily the things you need to do.

We needed a pj day. A day at home to hibernate, to play games, watch movies, read books and make a giant cupcake. I loved our stolen day. I loved having the time with the boys, watching them build giant forts that covered the upstairs, staging gigantic lego battles and cracking eggs on the side of my mixing bowl to bake up some cake.

We are happiest when we take a break now and then from the rushing around, all the doing of the things we feel like we should do. Sometimes, we need to just be. A stolen day to just be, my boys and me in our pjs soaking up a day of nothing. There is nothing like ending a day changing out of one pair of pjs right into another. That is a day well spent.

Reading Reader

I was over the moon ecstatic when Aidan fell in love with books. He loves to read. He brings a book with him everywhere, from the car, the school bus, the kitchen table to his bedroom. Aidan devours books faster than we can keep them in stock. And there is nothing that makes a reading mom prouder than having a reader child.

Books are good. Reading is fantastic. How could it ever be a bad thing?

It started a few weeks ago with a few test grades that were below Aidan's normal grades. Aidan does well in school. He enjoys it and works hard and his grades reflect that fact. But the weekly test folder started to show a few Bs mixed in with his normal As, until finally last week he brought home his first C. The mistakes on the tests were not from a lack of comprehension, but rather it just seemed like Aidan was rushing through his work to get it done as quickly as possible. He even skipped a full page on one of his tests.

We set up a meeting with his teacher. His teacher confirmed that he did seem to be rushing through his work, trying to be one of the first students done in the class.

"Well, what does he get as a reward if he does finish his work quickly? What does he get to do with his free time?" I asked the teacher.

I think you know the answer. He gets to read.

It may have been the first parent/teacher conference that ended with the teacher agreeing to ban a child from reading during free time in class. I almost can't believe it myself. But then I remember, back in the day, how I used to sneak books into my textbooks to read during class in grade school. And well, it all made sense then.

Winter Ice Cream

Ice cream still rocks in the winter. Especially when you are the only ones crazy enough to visit a Cold Stone on a day straight out of Antartica.

Save Me From Snow Days

We have had quite a few snow days this year. And while, of course, we are used to having a snow day here or there over the winter (we do live in Buffalo after all), it seems like we have had a few more than is normal. (And by normal, I mean normal to a Buffalo winter.)

I always start out the first snow day of the season embracing the free day at home with the kids. It will by idyllic! There will be hot cocoa with marshmallows, sledding and board games in our pjs! We will bake cookies and do crafts! I conveniently forget that nine times out of ten the snow day falls on a working day which means that I must juggle my lawyer persona with my mom persona. (It is a very rare day indeed that the dad must juggle his working persona with his dad persona. In my case, Chris usually greets the snow day with a cautious "So, what's your plan for the day?")

The meeting of the mom persona with the lawyer persona causes nothing but stress. Instead of basking in sledding runs while hot chocolate bubbles on the stove, I screech at my kids when they demand a snack and I am trying to get this one last important email sent to a client. Instead of board games in our pjs, I barter a movie with unlimited sugared candied snacks for the kiddies while I take a conference call in my pjs holed up in the laundry room. (Here's the thing about the laundry room. No one seems to ever look in there. It may mean they would have to, I don't know, do some laundry?)

My stress level rockets when I try to balance two almost impossible tasks: working and motherhood. I can't do either of them well when I try to do them in tandem. I short them both and end the day feeling like no one get the best parts of me.

Save me from the impossibility of juggling snow days. Or at least freedom from believing a woman really can do it all. Because if there is one thing you learn as a mother is that you can't do it all. You just can't. Something has to give. I guess that is why I made the emails wait this morning while I played Operation and Bop It. But, I have a conference call this afternoon that is bound to find the kids watching bad tv with a bag of marshmallows to split between them while I am hiding behind baskets of dirty laundry talking to a client. We do what we have to do. We do the best we can. Snow days and all.

Naptime

One of the things I miss most about my boys as babies is snuggling up with them at naptime. I loved gathering them close, cuddling up under a warm blanket and taking a nice mid-afternoon snooze. I am not a good sleeper, and even a worse napper, but somehow smelling my babies and holding them close, always made me relax enough that I could drift off to sleep.

I will often lay down in the couch in the afternoon to take a breather. Immediately upon my laying down, the boys will run to jump on me, to lay on top of me and to give me hugs. Chris will yell at them to leave me alone, to give me a break. But for some reason, I can't seem to drift off to naptime all alone in my bed in the quiet. I need those sweet boys of mine, cuddling, jumping and hugging, in order to grab a few minutes of naptime slumber.

Damage Control

You do your best to teach your children to be good people, but then you have to send them out into the world where other children get to have their say. And let's just say that some parents can impart some very interesting tidbits upon their kids. Tidbits that they then pass on to your kids.

And then you are left perfecting your best parental damage control.

There is a boy in Brennan's class that I am not too fond of. He is a bit on the wild side, tends to get into a lot of trouble and he makes alot of comments to Brennan that make me want to hit him upside the head.

Last week, he teased Brennan because Brennan admitted that he still had a blankey at home. (Given that I have a blankey at the ripe ol' age of 38, Brennan did not know he was stepping into a kindergarten minefield by admitting he had one.) Brennan came home upset and tearfully asked me if he had to get rid of his blanky soon because they were just for babies. When I assured him he did not, he clutched his blanket and smiled. I told Brennan just to ignore this little boy and if anything to feel sorry for him that he doesn't have a nice soft blanket to make him happy.

This week, the same little boy told Brennan that he hates "fat people." Brennan recounted the conversation for me at bedtime. My stomach clenched with anger, but I managed to keep a straight face when Brennan told me this boy told him that "all fat people are weird".

"And what did you say back Brennan?" I asked, trying hard to let him have his say without my jumping headfirst into my afterschool special lecture of accepting people of all sizes, colors and creeds.

"I told him he was wrong. I said fat people aren't weird. They are just like us. Just with bigger bellies!"

I breathed a big sense of relief. Sometimes, your kids can handle the damage control all on their own.

Early On Set Memory Loss

It's been a busy week or so in our home. Chris had a crazy week at work and was often home well after the boys and I were asleep. We spent most of the week trying to catch up while we stuffed backpacks and made lunches in the morning rush. (In other words, we managed two to three sentences in between running here, there and everywhere.)

After barely seeing each other all week, it was almost surreal that I had to meet Chris in the driveway Friday night. He was on his way home from work and I was waiting for him to arrive home so I could rush off to my tennis league. I swear we should have slapped high five as we passed each other to designate our change of the parental guard.

We were all up way too early Saturday morning to take Aidan and Brennan to a swim meet. As I have mentioned swim meets are crazy, chaotic places. A pool, a gym, a cafeteria filled with kids, parents and coaches rushing to swim, rushing to line up to swim, and rushing to find a warm towel. On top of our trying to navigate each of the boys' swim events (six for Aidan and four for Brennan), we also were responsible for the morning shift at the concession stand. And we had our four year old in tow. (Griffin helped me at the concession stand by taste testing the pizza, the juice, the donuts and the push up lollipops. He's a giver that kid.)

Yes, it was a nice relaxing Saturday morning. Thanks for asking.

The boys did great at the meet. Brennan handled his first 50 yard events (freestyle, breast and backstroke) without a care or a worry. (Although when I told him how proud I was of his bravery, he did whisper to me that he had been a little bit nervous. Oh, I could eat him up with his cuteness.) Aidan was a rockstar swimmer. He won his heat for both breast stroke and freestyle, and took the top time out of all boys 8 and under for freestyle, besting his fastest time by over two seconds. He also did a few 50s and his first ever 100 free.

(Watching those poor young kids do the 100 free is tough. By the third lap, you want to take bets on which one is going to break first and hold onto the rope while screaming for someone to come fish them the hell out of the pool already.)

After our five hour stint at the swim meet, we headed home with our hostages Travis and Lynda, who the boys never wanted to go home. Ever. (While they were trying to leave our house, Brennan asked Travis for one last hug. When Travis went to give him a hug, Griffin and Brennan staged an ambush and grabbed onto each of his legs, refusing to let him leave. Oh, the love of a nephew. It's crazy love.)

On Sunday, the boys had their ski and snowboard lessons. And while many of our friends opted to skip the lesson this week due to the minus 12 below windchill, Chris just laughed at the weather and told the boys to suit up. In layers. Lots and lots of layers. (Frost bite? What frost bite?)

They returned home early Sunday afternoon exhausted. And so we all collapsed on the couch together as a family to watch a movie in comfy (and warm!) pjs under many a blanket.

It wasn't until the movie was over that I realized I had forgotten Brennan had been invited to a birthday party. A birthday party that we had RSVPed yes to attend. A birthday party that had ended all of an hour ago.

The same birthday party that was marked on my calendar and our home dry erase calendar. The same birthday party invitation that was up on the bulletin board in our kitchen.

Yep. That party.

It was fun to call the parents of the birthday girl and explain that I had, well, forgotten all about their party.

Early on set memory loss brought on by insane levels of busyness. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

January Schmanuary

January is one of my least favorite months. It is such a let down after the wonder of the Christmas season to wake up to a month of cold, snow and well, winter. Don't get me wrong, I do love the snow (otherwise why would I live in Buffalo of all places?), but when you look at a calendar of months promising nothing but hibernation (with three very energetic children!), it begins to wear on you.

January, you wear me down.

January is also a month of reflection, of where you are and where you want to go. There is no wrapping or cookie baking or holiday decorating to hide behind. In the starkness of winter, there is nothing but reality to contemplate. And so reality it is.

I hope for some exciting changes in my life this new year. I am working to make it happen. I am also working hard to continue to inspire myself to make it happen. But while most people seem to feel energized to work for change in the new year of January, I just want to curl up in a ball, hide under a soft blanket and read a good romance novel.

Damn you January. I think February will be better.

Marching to His Own Drummer

Brennan tends to live in his own world. From his constant joyful demeanor and endless stream of giggling, it looks like a fairly nice world.

But sometimes, you have to shake your head. Last night I am getting the boys to bed. (Which, now that they can dress themselves, basically involves me yelling out "brush your teeth!" "wash your face!" "get dressed" about a million and one times while they run around the upstairs buck naked trying to hit each other on the butt. I always imagine our neighbors watching us in our giant front window, shaking their heads and just wondering about what goes on in our house behind closed doors. Hell, I'd be wondering if I saw our antics on a replay.)

Brennan starts to get undressed into his pjs, when he stops and starts laughing hysterically.

"Look at me! I have three pairs of underwear on!" He hollers.

We all look. And yes indeed, Brennan somehow got dressed for school in the morning and layered himself into three pairs of underwear.

Brennan isn't quite sure how he did it, but it was definitely an excuse for a nice long dance jumping around in his three pairs of underwear. And then yet another dance in his birthday suit. 'Cause that is just the way Brennan rolls.

And we wouldn't have it any other way.

School Break!

I think one of the things I miss most about being a student is vacation. School holiday breaks are amazing things, aren't they?

The boys loved break. What's not to love? Endless days of playing, relaxing, watching movies? It's all good.

Over the holiday break, I took the boys to my Firm's box at HSBC Arena for the International Junior Hockey Championships. (I have to keep explaining to them that the whole attending a hockey game in a box is not true reality. I think they barely heard me over the unlimited popcorn, chips, drinks and french fries.)






We played a whole lot of Wii. And while I was partial to Just Dance and Glee Karaoke (love!), even the boys took a break from conquering the world in Nerf Gun Elite to Just Dance their sweet little heads off. (They are dancing to Just Like an Egyptian in the pic below. I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard at their antics. I should have taken video.)

We went sledding on "our" sledding hill in Whoville. It is the perfect hill, steep enough for a good ride, but little enough that the boys can hoof it back up, again, again, and well, again. Our toes and noses were frozen, but after they had all the sledding they can handle, we escaped home for hot chocolate with a whole lot of marshmallows. (And maybe just a bit of Mint Bailey's for Mommy.)

And, of course, the boys played a whole lot of legos. Santa brought much legos to our house this year, and the boys got to a-building. Aidan was thrilled with his haul of both the Harry Potter Hogwart's castle and the Harry Potter train.

He busted out the castle and after four hours (FOUR HOURS!) of building and painstakingly following each and every direction, he built that castle. All. By. Himself. It was quite a feat.

At the end of the break, I think we spent most of our time lounging at home, playing games, watching movies and living in our pajamas. There were many days of us basically changing from one set of pjs to another at bedtime. I couldn't have asked for anything more.

Even Chewy loved break. Three little boys, at home, loving him up all the live long day. It's good to be the pup!

Hello 2011

We celebrated New Years Eve at a friends' house at a kid friendly party. (A kid friendly party with cosmos and chicken wing dip. Game on.)

We had been at the party for all of ten minutes before my crazy ruffian of children started to wrestle. And during said wrestling match, Griffin ran into the fray with a plastic horn in his mouth. The plastic horn got shoved into the top of his mouth and made a nice giant sized hole.

Oh the blood. There was a whole lot of blood.

Unfortunately, Chris had just left with our host Tony to grab our pizza. That left me with our other host, our sweet friend Justine, to deal with all the blood and all the screaming.

My screaming. Not Griffin's.

Yes. I did not deal with the giant hole, oh so much blood, situation too well. Instead of dealing with the blood or comforting Griffin, I clutched Griffin to me and started to scream at my other two children for roughhousing. As this was a side of me that had never been exposed to our host, let's just hope we get invited back to their house. Odds may not be good.

We got the blood cleaned up and thankfully, shortly thereafter, our dear friends PJ and Danielle arrived. Dr. PJ checked out Griffin's mouth, conferred with a fellow medical friend via phone, and told me Griffin would, indeed, live to see another day. (And eat solid food.) Our hosts promptly made me a very big cosmo and kept it very full for the rest of the evening.

Happy New Year to me.

Griffin has loved having a giant hole in his mouth and has regaled anyone and everyone with the story. Good times.




Otherwise, the evening was lovely. We told the kiddies that ten pm was actually midnight. (Liar, liar, pants on fire.) And after a throwdown of a pillow fight, did a huge ball drop to celebrate.

After my hoarder kids had shoved half the balloons into the car for home, we were home and in bed by 10:45. That's my kind of night out. (Yes, I am not as much fun as I like to think I am.)

We spent New Year's Day in our pjs. It was a day of reading, watching movies, playing games and well, nothing. A whole lot of nothing. It was a perfect beginning to the new year.