Lemonade!

The boys are obsessed with lemonade stands. It started a few weeks ago when the kids that live across the street were setting up their own lemonade stand. Our neighborhood is bursting with kids, but there is a big concentration of younger kids right next to our house with about ten children under the age of ten living within a five house cluster. My boys haven’t really joined the gangs of kids roaming the street, even when it is a group of kids their age playing right across the street. They prefer to stay in their own backyard, playing their own games. The boys play with the neighborhood kids at parties and neighborhood bbqs, but otherwise, they are still a little hesitant about jumping in.

Until the lemonade stand. The sight of that stand and all that signage was too much for Griffin. He wanted in. He begged Brennan to go with him. Brennan refused. He begged Aidan to go with him. Aidan refused, and instead went off for a bike ride around the block.

Griffin stood on our driveway just watching that lemonade stand and the gang of kids, desperate to get in on the action. (And it was all of 100 feet away from our house. But still, he couldn’t do it without his brothers.) Finally after I couldn’t take it any longer, I took pity on G and walked him across the street, promising to stay with him until he felt comfortable.

Brennan stayed in our front yard, digging in dirt, but watching us out of the corner of his eyes. Finally, after several minutes had passed, Brennan wanted to join in the lemonade fun too. And when Aidan returned from his bike ride and also wanted to sell some lemonade, all three felt confident enough that I could return home.

The lemonade stand was a hit. We live in a neighborhood of very kind people. Almost every single car that drove past stopped to purchase a lemonade. My favorite moment was when my grandmother drove by, saw the stand, and stopped to purchase a cup. She pulled into our driveway to chat with me while she waited for her cup to be delivered. Brennan ran over to her with her cup of lemonade in one hand and a fistful of ice cubes squeezed into the other hand.

“Nana! Did you want ice in your lemonade?” Brennan asked, opening his fist to show her the ice cubes melting up against his dirty, grubby six year old hands.

“Um, no. I’m good without ice.” She responded, swallowing a chuckle, but throwing me a smile.

“Good call.” I told her, laughing out loud.

At the end of the day of lemonade, each child brought home their share of the profits from the neighborhood stand. Each child made $10. $10!!!! There were like 8 kids running that stand, which if you do the math (and I never like to do the math) means that their little stand brought in almost a $100.

It’s a racket!

So of course, they wanted to do it again. Who wouldn’t? So today, with the assistance of their kind babysitter for the day, my cousin Bridget, the boys opened up their own lemonade stand in our driveway.

And made $8 each for about an hour of sales. Bridget told me she couldn’t believe it.

“Everyone who drove by stopped. And most of them just gave them a dollar or a few people even gave them $5, and told them to keep the change. The lemonade stand is a money maker!” She told me when I got home.

Indeed it is. Lemonade for everyone!

First Communion - Aidan

A day or so after we came back to reality from our week away in Hilton Head, Aidan made his first communion. (And we hosted a brunch for thirty family members. That was great planning on my part. Who doesn't want to get off a plane to jump right into party planning?)

Aidan made his first communion with almost his entire third grade class, the same boys and girls he has been attending school with since kindergarten. It was unbearably sweet to see all of them together, bursting with pride over their collective moment. They are a wonderful group of kids and I feel very lucky that Aidan is a part of them.

I also felt quite nostalgic watching Aidan during the mass, remembering that this same church was the church in which Chris and I were married, that Aidan and his brothers were baptized, and now Aidan's was celebrating his first communion. It makes each celebration that much more special because of all the memories surrounding this one place.

And of course, after everyone had eaten at our celebration brunch, it isn't a true family celebration without a drag out, Wii battle between all the "boys" of the family. (I think Uncle Seth and Uncle Travis get even more excited than the little boys for these video game wars.)

A Year of Reading

Aidan's third grade teacher required that each student read a minimum of 500 pages a month on their own. Each student had to maintain a monthly book log, listing the title of the books read, authors, pages in the book and a short summary about the book. Beyond the reading requirement, his teacher also started a contest. The student who read the most pages from September through May of the school year would win a gift card to barnes and noble.

The contest winner was announced yesterday. By a large margin - my reading reader Aidan came in first place and won himself a $30 gift card to the book store.

He won the gift card by reading close to 18,000 pages since September.

18,000 pages! That's a whole lot of reading. I could not be prouder.

24

“Mom, how old were you when you married Daddy?” Brennan asks as I hug him goodnight.

“I was 24.” I reply.

“24! Wow, that’s old.”

Sigh. Yes, practically ancient.

“And that was how old you were when you first kissed Daddy? 24?”

I only wish I hadn’t burst out laughing just so I could have solemnly told him, yes. Yes, 24 is a perfect age for you to hit before you start kissing girls. But my laughter may have ruined it. Damn it. Another practically perfect parenting moment ruined by my lack of a poker face.

Knocking Out a Tooth

Brennan's front tooth has been loose for about a month. Since then he has been working it nonstop, trying to get it out so he could get his financial bounty from the tooth fairy.

On Sunday, all three boys were up on the swings goofing around. Chris and I were sitting on the patio battling out Words with Friends. (We are addicted. Just don't ask how we spent our Saturday night. Just. Don't.)

I hear a loud smack and a cry from the swing set. I look up to find Brennan holding his face and crying. All three boys are yelling. Over the din, Brennan stops crying and yells, "I lost my tooth! It's out!"

The boys run down to Chris and me in a mass of yelling. Brennan proudly shows off his new lost tooth and the open gap at the front of his mouth.

As Aidan takes his turn looking the tooth over, the turns to Brennan and says, "Did I knock your tooth out when I hit you in the face with my elbow?"

Brennan proudly and happily responds, "You did!"

Nothing like an elbow to the face to bring about the joy of the tooth fairy. Boys are fun.

The Orange Juice to End all Orange Juices

Damn that Wegmans. Just when I thought I had all my little Wegmans addictions in check (oh ultimate chocolate cake I am talking to you), they have to go and create something new. (And no, I am not discussing the new fresh veggie bar, which while very cool does not an addiction make.)

I am looking at you Freshly Squeezed Organic Juicer. Yes you. You with your tiny samples of fresh squeezed goodness that lures you in and convinces you that 7.99 is not an extreme price for a half gallon of liquid sunshine.

I caved. I bought the millionaire juice. And I loved it. So much, that I not only bought it, but I hid it from my children.

(I gave them the store brand, non-organic, non-freshly squeezed, from concentrate juice. I hang my head in shame. SHAME.)

I hid the juice in the fridge, until one day, my Wegmans partner Griffin realized that the orange sunshine in a cup was actually in our fridge and he rejoiced! And demanded his own cup of organic goodness! And while I reluctantly shared, I told him it was our little secret. We clinked our glasses together in celebration while we drank our liquid gold huddled out of sight of my other two children. (And then gave the other two boys the store brand stuff.)

This past week, G and I are at Wegmans getting the weekly shopping done. We walk by the organic juicer manned by a Wegmans employee when Griffin yells out in a very loud, carry across the entire store voice:

"Momma! There it is! There! It's the juice you don't share! The juice you don't share!"

Commence much laughing from the other mother's shopping in the vicinity of my cart. I managed a quick half laugh as I grabbed yet another half gallon of that damn addictive orange juice and threw it in our cart.

The "Juice We Don't Share" has ruined me for all other juices. (Sob! Shaking fist at Wegmans. ) I can never go back! Never! (And neither can Griffin.)

Brennan Graduates!

I had a really tough time when Brennan started kindergarten. I thought it would be easy, letting my second baby boy head off to school, but it was just as hard, if not harder. Brennan grew up so much this year. He is a boy. A sweet, laughing, loves the world little boy.

A boy now headed for first grade.

The Mother's Day Teas 2011 Edition

Way back before Hilton Head and vacation and our month of rain, we celebrated Mother's Day. With teas! At school! It was a day of mother's day teas. I started with Brennan's classroom, where we ate goodies prepared by his teacher, loved up our adorable kiddie's crafts and enjoyed some sweet mom's day songs performed by his class.

My sweet kindergarten boy.

After Brennan's Mother's Day tea, I was off to Griffin's school. More homemade baked goodies, more sweetly sung songs, and more lovingly made crafts.

And after too many years of my children telling their friends that their mommy's favorite thing to do is "watch television" or that the thing I tell them all the time is to "do the laundry," it was like a breath of fresh air to see my darling third child's mother's day poster.

The third time is definitely the charm.

My mom is "pretty"! My mom always says "I love you"! I love my mom because "she's nice to me"!

I love this child. I shall keep him. Forever and ever.

Griffin also drew a picture of what I do while he is at school.

The Sun Finally Came Out to Play

It has been one rainy spring. While I am grateful Whoville isn't prone to floods or tornados, the incessant rain has been tough on the spirits. My three very active little boys have been itching for some outside play time and the weather has not been cooperating. Finally, in desperation, they have managed some outside playtime in our giant mud-like backyard. Between the mud play leading to three mud covered little boys and the dog lying about in mud pits creating a 95 pound mudden retriever, my floors have seen better days.

I finally gave up on the floors, the muddy shoes, and the dirt covered dog. The mud wins. But, please, oh pretty please, can we see some sun again?

The forecast for our long Memorial Day weekend showed us a whole lot of sun. We endured the rainy Friday prelude with a three hour long marathon Monopoly match, content to know that tomorrow we would be at the opening day of the pool soaking up some rays.

Because the weather people never lie. No. And they are always reliable. (We should know better.)

Saturday morning, I woke up to clouds. I was a bit worried. But the weather people! They showed me sun! Five days straight of sun!

I tried to stay upbeat. I told the boys to get ready for the pool. I got my swimsuit on and packed the pool bag even as the clouds got darker.

I saw Griffin in his swimsuit, goggles on his head, standing in front of our sliding glass door watching the clouds quietly. And then the rain began to fall. Big fat tear drops, raining all over our sunny day at the pool.

Griffin turned to me with huge tears in his eyes and cried, "NO! I can't take it anymore! NO MORE RAIN!"

I shared his pain.

To perk the boys back up into our summer fun mode, I told them we would swim anyway. What's a few rain drops? We can swim in the rain! In fact, we will spend the whole day at the pool, rain or not!

I spent the first two hours or so at the pool huddled under some towels while the boys swam happily in a nicely heated pool. But finally, the sun started to break through the clouds. I have never been so happy to finally see the sun.

We soaked up another sunny day on Sunday. The boys and I were at the pool from 10 am to 4:30 pm! My little fishies of children didn't want to get out of the pool, but I promised them it is only the beginning of the summer with many more sunny pool days to come.

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.