Friday at the Museum

Aidan had a day off school today. (I swear the number of school holidays is unbelievable.) The day off inspired us to head out for a little friday field trip. With two cousins in tow, (leaving me in a car with five (5!) children - from ages 13 to 1!), we set off for Explore and More for a little fun.

Aidan and Brennan loved the construction section and spent most of the morning "building a house."




Griffin's personal favorite was the international culture section of the museum, specifically the tribute to Mexican music. He busted many a move as he shook a few maracas.

My personal highlight of the morning was my obnoxiously hysterical laughter when a mother asked me if all five children were mine. I managed to stop laughing long enough to reply, "I am just not that strong of a person." She laughed and said, "You did look pretty calm for being a mother to five." Yeah, if she only knew.

After the museum, we enjoyed a gourmet lunch at the culinary bistro known as Burger King. (It was Aidan's choice.) Does ketchup count as a vegetable? If so, Griffin had a full day's worth of veggies after he sucked down three plastic cups of ketchup. (The smell of ketchup is still stinging my nostrils. Whew!)

Huggers Unite!

Brennan loves to hug. This love for a hug extends beyond his family. He insists before he leaves school he must hug each one of his friends goodbye. It is sweet to see your three year old boy in a hugging frenzy at the end of each day. (It is also somewhat comical to see Brennan hugging his classmates since he towers over most of them and looks like he could pick them up on a whim and carry them off.)

Brennan’s teacher and I always share mutual amusement over Brennan’s end of the day hugging antics. A few weeks ago, she told me Brennan was one of two huggers from his class, but the other hugger, a little girl, had been forbidden from any further hugging.

Yeah, no more hugging or else! Apparently, the mother of the other hugger called the school and informed them her daughter is no longer allowed to hug her classmates. This little girl may wave or smile to her friends in greeting, but absolutely, positively no hugging! I shook my head with incomprehension as I asked, “Why? Why would the mother stop her from hugging?”

The response: “The mother told us she doesn’t want her daughter to grow up to be that type of girl.”

I have no idea what this means. I want Brennan to grow up to be exactly this type of boy. A boy who shares affection and love with his friends and family with comfort and joy. I am not sure how this could ever be a bad thing.

But even Brennan’s hugging is now under attack by another teacher. He sadly informed me last night that one of the other teachers has put a stop to his hugging. I found myself asking, once again, why?

Brennan made a scrunched up face, shook his head and said sadly, “All that hugging spreads too many germs mom.”

I gave him a hug and whispered, “You just keep on hugging B – germs and all. Okay?”

He giggled and said, “Okay.”

We may just start our own little hugging revolution.

Signs of Spring

I always forget how desperate we are for the warmth of spring until we have a bizarre day of warmth and sunshine smack dab in the middle of winter. Today was such a day. It was sunny and warm. The perfect weather to counter the winter blahs. I got the boys outside as soon as we could throw on boots and jackets. They stomped in every puddle they could find, spattering mud and goop on them, on each other and on me. They threw rocks into a frozen lake, trying to crack the surface of the ice with brute force. And we walked and walked some more, enjoying the warm wind on our faces. There is nothing like a little warm sunshine to put a smile on a child's face.

We made it out again after nap time. The boys entertained themselves for an hour, cracking ice and digging in mud puddles. They were covered, head to toe, in dirt and sloppy mud for the second time of the day. It was a perfect promise of the spring to come. Until, of course, it snows tomorrow morning.

Long Time Gone

Aidan and I always spend a few minutes cuddled up on his bed before I kiss him goodnight. We always talk a bit, usually about our days, but he has another favorite topic: it's called let's discuss how many times/days you have gone away without me. Yep. My sweet boy likes to dissect each and every time I had to leave him overnight. This includes a discussion of the length of each time away and the reason. From stolen weekends away to hospital stays to arrange the arrival of his little brothers, Aidan wants to recount each occurrence again... and again.. and again.

The first time he sprang this topic on me, I panicked under the pressure of guilt and told him I was only away for a day or two in the hospital to have Griffin. He shook his head at me and FROM MEMORY told me the number of days I was gone, including the day of the week I left and returned. I think he scares me a little bit.

Bye Bye Baby Locks

Chris took the boys for a hair cut this morning. We discussed Griffin's hair before he left. I asked Chris to get Griffin a trim, just enough to get rid of the little mullet action he was sporting, but not enough to take away his sweet blonde baby locks. Imagine my reaction when I returned from grocery shopping and was greeted with this:





Yeah, NOT a trim, right? It looks like someone took some serious shears to my baby's locks. At first glance of my baby's balding head, I dropped my purse and bags on the floor and, of course, started to cry. It wasn't a pretty cry either, it was the wailing of a mom faced with her last little baby looking at her as a little boy. And then Chris and I commenced our debate (read: fight) on the definition of trim vs. hair cut. ( I also can't figure out if this is just his clever way of getting out of hair cut duty for the foreseeable future. If so, it may be a stroke of genius on his part.)

On the bright side, I guess my baby's sweet locks will grow back. Someday. Sigh.

The Copycat

In many ways, the third child is easier because he mimics the behavior of his brothers. This works to your advantage most of the time, but alas, not all the time.

Instead of building with our Tinkertoys this morning, Brennan decided to see how many he could STICK UP HIS NOSE. I caught him as he had several up both nostrils. When I gasped at him, he defended himself by telling me he had just been trying to look like a bunny rabbit. A bunny rabbit with Tinkertoys up his nose? I have no idea. I promptly packed up the nose candy and threw it in the kitchen sink for some good scrubbing.

Ten minutes later, I caught Griffin walking around with two more Tinkertoys shoved up his nose. And while Brennan tried to act contrite for teaching his little brother new tricks, I think I saw a quick gleam of pride in his eyes as he glanced at his own little pliable copycat. I fear what Brennan may have in mind for Griffin next.

The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad THREES

If asked if I have enjoyed my children at all their stages and ages of life, I will tell you I did and do. But if I am pressed, I will admit that I loathe what I have now dubbed as the "terrible threes."

Yes, I know. It's supposed to be the terrible twos, isn't it? The twos gets all the hype, all the fear, and probably its very own chapter in most parenting manuals. But for me, it's not the twos. We SAIL through the twos. And just when we breath a sigh of relief, certain we have survived the stage that is billed as one of the worst for the toddler/preschool set, then comes the third birthday.

My sweet, charming little two year old morphs before my eyes into a whining, defiant, mean spirited three year old. He whines from sunrise to sunset. He refuses to do anything he is told. He may even put his little hands on his hips, glare at you after a nice ol' eye roll and say something akin to "I'm not going to argue with you mom, but I am still NOT GOING TO GO TO THE POTTY." (Um, yes - are you three or thirteen?) He throws some spectacular tantrums. He will be put in time outs again and again and again until, he just really doesn't care. He forgets how to share. He choses the opposite of anything and everything you want him to do. And most of all, he must do everything, absolutely everything himself - with no help or assistance from anyone, unless of course - it's something you have asked him to do.

I remember the dawn of three as a challenging time for me as a parent to Aidan. We adjusted and slowly, eventually, three got better until we rejoiced in the arrival of four. But now, Brennan has turned three. My easy, happy go lucky boy who always rolls with the punches has, overnight, jumped head first into the terrible threes. I miss my sweet two year old. The three year old wipes me out. I try to remember it's temporary. Still, I end most days defeated, hoping and praying for the patience to make it to four.

I know it is a child's job to test their parents and the limits we set for them. But sometimes, I wish they didn't do their job so frustratingly well.

Bust a Move

All my kids like to dance. We regularly turn on tunes and get a groove on in our household as a sure fire way to burn off some energy. But, Griffin doesn't just like to dance - he loves to dance. It's almost like he can't help himself. If there is music, he must bust a move. His dancing starts with a sway of his little hips and a few turns joined by much punching and arm action. It's honestly one of the funniest and sweetest things I have ever seen.

My goal is to record Griffin's groove for posterity's sake. (Who doesn't want to whip out some long forgotten about video of their child dancing across the living room to torture their child in their teen angst years?) But unfortunately, for me, Griffin is camera shy. The camera comes out - and he loses that dancing feeling. Chris has come the closest to catching any of it on film. And while the video does not capture his groove in the slightest and is only a smidgen of the dancing show he usually provides, I still had to share the video of my one year old rockin' to Spoon.

A Sledding Kind of Weekend

On Saturday morning, I took the boys to meet some friends at a small hill in our little town of Whoville to do some sledding. The hill is perfect size for the kiddies, just big enough for some thrills, but not big enough that they can't manage to get back up for another run. (There would be no sledding in a world that required I carry a child up a hill. No sledding at all.)

The kids all had a blast. The adults did too. We raced. We giggled. We enjoyed a perfect winter day with sun glistening off the snow. It was such a good time, in fact, that the phone rang Sunday morning at 8:30 a.m. to ask if we were all up for another round of sledding fun. We suited up and hit our sledding slope. The kids were, once again, gung ho, sledding any which way, backwards, forwards, on bellies and laying down. Not to be shown up by the kiddies, the adults raced and belly flopped onto snow tubes. A sledding good time was had by all. Well, almost all - Griffin wasn't too fond of all the snow and cold and sledding action. But we have great hope for him next year.

Lazy Thursday

I was at home today with the boys and we were lazy. While Chris took Aidan skiing, Brennan, Griffin and I enjoyed some time with pjs, legos and play dough. (I also managed to catch up on the last episode of Project Runway at nap time - the wonders of dvr.)

Life is good.

A Different Take

I decided I would research possibly having Aidan and Brennan take ice skating/hockey lessons at a local rink. Chris and I were excited by the idea and thought the boys would love it.

I was wrong. Partly.

When I asked Aidan about possibly learning hockey, he told me he wasn't interested.

"No?" I asked surprised.

"No. I don't want to take hockey. I just like to watch it. I do like to skate though." Aidan replied.

"Okay. I have you signed up for soccer still, is that okay?"

"Oh, I love soccer! And I want to play basketball too! Just not hockey."

"Why not hockey?"

Aidan's eyes grow wide as he responds, "In hockey, they slam you and try and get you to fall. I don't want to do that. It hurts. I also don't ever want to play football. That hurts too. Just soccer and basketball."

Okay, then. Note to self - no hockey for Aidan. The next morning, I put the same question to Brennan.

"Hey B I was thinking of signing you up for lessons to learn to play hockey and ice skate. Would you want to do it?"

Brennan jumped up in joy and ran over to hug me in glee. After he hugged me, he pumped his fist in the air and said, "Yes, HOCKEY!" He jumped up and down a bit in excitement. After a minute, he turned to me and said with seriousness, "I also want to play football, okay Mom?"

I should have guessed that with three boys we are bound to have each sport covered.

Boys and Boogers

Brennan and I were snuggled up in bed tonight when he touched his finger to the beauty mark above my lips and asked, "What is this?"

"It's a beauty mark." I replied. (I refuse to call it a mole. Just the term "mole" freaks me out - like I am going to have some tiny little creature burrowing out of my face, cheek or chest. Or leg. Or arm. Damn, I have a ton of these suckers on me.)

"Huh," Brennan replied as he gazed at it thoughtfully. He removes his finger and says with a shrug, "I thought it was a giant booger."

I had nothing to say in response. I mean, really, my sweet adorable little three year old thought his mom was walking around for the THREE years of his life with a giant booger hanging from her nose? Don't you think he'd at least offer me a tissue?

TGIF

It's Friday and Chris is home. If I could dance with joy, I would. But I am honestly so exhausted from the on again, off again, single parenting gig to three young children, that all I can do is imagine a weekend morning of sleeping in and maybe an afternoon to myself.

On totally unrelated subjects... Best thing I saw on Valentine's Day? The mother sitting in her suburban in Aidan's school parking lot feverishly writing out valentine's at 8 a.m. Thursday. I must stalk her and make her my friend. She doesn't know it yet, but we are mommy soulmates.

Funniest thing to happen on Valentine's Day? Chris literally just walks in the door and his first assignment as a father is to convince Brennan to put on the only pull ups we have left in the house. Of course, the pull ups are of the very pink "Disney Princess" variety. "Wow, look at that castle Brennan! And the donkey - it's just like Shrek!" I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes. Princesses, what princesses? Thank God Brennan is color blind, right?

Wednesday

I set my alarm, but the volume was off. Woke up a little late.

Griffin dyed his hands and fingers black with my mascara while I was distracted squeezing myself into a pair of Spanx.

Griffin also emptied out every single drawer in my bathroom, unloaded a basket of newly folded clean clothes and found some blue fingerpaint in the pantry and painted his formerly black hands (and shirt and cheeks!) blue. (This all occurred while I brushed my hair and loaded a diaper bag. Kid can do some serious damage in a very short period of time. It's a gift.)

Aidan mentioned he heard at school that "McCain is a president" and I had to brainwash him over his bowl of (quite nutritious) Lucky Charms that Obama is really our guy. (And make sure you mention that to your (Republican brainwasher!) teachers today okay?)

After getting one child on the bus, two children off to daycare and myself off to work and meetings and more work, I get THE call: Brennan has a fever and must be picked up from daycare. I pack up a ton of work and race out of the office in a frenzy. In order to bring Brennan home, I have to wake up poor little Griffin who finally had settled down for a nap. The ride home was a chorus of competing hysteria. (Me included.)

My Aunt Nancy who gets Aidan off the bus for me on Wednesdays offers to take Aidan with her to my cousin's basketball game to leave me with one less child. She also offers to stop at a store and fill my medicine cabinet with Motrin. Yes, she's a saint and yes, I adore her.

While most children refuse food when they have a high fever, Brennan consumes three yogurts, two bowls of plain noodles, a cup of goldfish crackers, a frozen fruit bar and a gogurt in approximately two hours. The kid has an appetite when he is drugged.

I put all three kids to bed and commence baking for Aidan's Valentine's Party at school tomorrow. And then instead of doing ANY of the work I brought home, I pour myself a large glass of red wine and watch a dvred American Idol. (and I ate some cookies too. Who knew that red wine and chocolate taste really good together? 'Cause they do.)

I think I need to go to bed now. Note to self: must remember to turn my volume up on my alarm!

Simple Sweetness

The last month or so has been a long one for me. Chris is busy, busy, busy, which leaves me in the delicate juggling act of three kiddies and work and well, life, all by myself. Single parenting truly sucks.

Last night I was particularly tired and a bit grumpy as I tackled bath and bed with the boys as a single parent. After putting Griffin to sleep, I fell into Brennan’s bed with the other two for some quality pre-bed story time.

Aidan stretched out next to me, gave me a hug and said, “You’re tired, aren’t you Mom?” I told him I was and he replied, “We can take care of you, right Brennan?”

Brennan laughed and told me to lay down in his bed and go to sleep. I feigned sleep as the boys took turns rubbing my back and Aidan instructed Brennan on the art of massaging Mommy’s feet. I didn’t know whether to laugh at the absurdity of my boys rubbing my feet as I was face down in a plastic car bed or cry over the simple sweetness of my boys recognizing I was beyond worn out. I think I did a little of both.

The Dr. Phil of Kindergarten

The big lesson in kindergarten today was on feelings. Aidan got off the bus abuzz with talk about sad and happy, shy and angry. I heard him discussing his day with Brennan a few hours later.

Aidan: "What did you do at Sports Camp today Brennan?"

Brennan: "I didn't have sports camp. Too much snow. Mommy said we couldn't go."

Aidan: "Hmmm, and how did that make you feel Brennan?"

Brennan: "I don't know."

Aidan: "Were you sad you didn't go to Sports Camp?"

Brennan: Shrugs his shoulders, "I guess so."

Aidan: "Were you mad you didn't go to Sports Camp?"

Brennan: "Maybe."

Aidan smiles brightly and slaps Brennan on the shoulder, "Brennan, do you know what? Those are your feelings! Your feelings!" Brennan nods his head in some half hearted agreement.

Meanwhile, I was doubled over with muffled laughter. My child has become the Dr. Phil of Kindergarten. I fully expect his next comment to be something akin to 'how's that working for you?'.

Movie Night

With Chris otherwise engaged, I told the boys we would have a special "mommy night." We made pizza, had ice cream sundaes and ordered up a movie selected by the boys for our viewing pleasure: "Meet the Robinsons." I okayed the movie selection because it was rated G and seemed to involve a little boy going to space and inventing random stuff. What's not to love?

Hmmmm. Well apparently, the movie is really about a little boy who spends day and night pining for the mother who left him at an orphanage. Probably NOT the best selection for my mommy obsessed set. Within four minutes of starting the movie, Aidan was in hysterics crying for the lost mommy. Brennan joined him two minutes later. And then not be left out, Griffin opted for the sympathy cry and joined the cacophony of wails from his brothers. Ain't nothin' but good times in this house.

Latin Mambo Meet Choo Choo Soul

I have a goal to be active every day. I am happiest with a daily walk around the neighborhood, but when Buffalo turns to frigid winds and dark nights, a walk in my life is almost impossible. Chris tried to help me. He set up our treadmill in the basement with easy access to a television and dvd player. For a while, I was making good use of it, lured into walking in the basement by the promise of Season One Alias episodes waiting for me. (Damn, there is no better series than Season One of the beauty that is Alias. In my next life, I want to come back as Sydney Bristow.)

After a while, even the promise of Alias wasn't enough to get me down to my basement treadmill at 8 p.m. at night. I want pjs and the couch. I tried to get it going during the kids' naptimes, but I resented taking my one hour a day of peace and making it a "have to do", rather than enjoying a moment of solitude with a good book and a nice cup of tea. (My life is already filled to the brims with the have tos, I need some indulgent want tos.)

Today I decided to try something a little different. I think I have already discussed my love for the wonders of "on demand" programming, but did you know on demand offers exercise shows on demand? Really! And it's free! So today, I psyched the boys up for some family exercise time. We ordered up a little latin dance cardio rock and got busy. (Okay, okay, I really bribed them with some frosted animal crackers in order to buy me some exercise time. There is something a little bit horrible about giving your children a sugar laden snack so they can watch you make an ass out of yourself doing the mambo.)

With some begging and bribing, we made it through Latin Dance. Then to appease the boys, we switched on a little Choo Choo Soul and jumped around the house some more. Hey, exercise is still exercise if it's set to a soulful rendition of your 'ABCs' right?

Four?

I had lunch today with two women, both of whom are pregnant. As pictures of ultrasounds were passed around the table, I was asked if I would go for number four. I laughed and shook my head with an emphatic and resounding “no.”

Later that afternoon, I considered my answer. Two years ago this month, I was ready to go for baby three. I had intense baby fever, brought on by the sudden independence of Brennan turning one and rejecting cuddles in favor of chasing his older brother. The next thing I knew, it was early April 2006, and I was pregnant again. (Combine the month of March - my husband’s birthday month, a bottle (or two) of wine and a little shall we say, ahem, recklessness and well, it really does only take one time. I learned this not once, but twice. Yes, hello two children born in the month of December. )

Fast forward to the present day: now Griffin has adopted the independence of toddlerhood with fervor. He returns for a hug or a cuddle now and again, content to know I am close by him, but he is happiest running with the pack of his busy, noisy older brothers. He plays with Aidan and Brennan as an equal. Not as a baby, but as a boy. My sweet, baby of a little boy. I am always sad when he squirms to get off my lap or wiggles away from my hug, but there is joy in watching him grow and discover his own world.

I miss my boys as babies. I hold all memories of our baby days close. But I am surprised to discover I am content with my life as a mom to three boys, big and little, without yearning for another baby to join the ranks.

I guess I just have to hold my husband at bay and stay away from the wine this March to keep it that way.

Griffin: The Possessive

Griffin has decided no one, absolutely no ONE may hug, cuddle or otherwise touch his momma without facing the wrath of an enraged one year old. If you proceed to hug, cuddle or otherwise touch his momma with him in the room, he will scream a high pitched wail repeatedly until he can get his momma all to himself. He has even gone so far as to push Brennan and Aidan off my lap in order to reclaim his rightful place. He will also scowl and shoot a warning glance to Chris if he dares to reach over and give me a kiss.

While Aidan finds the whole screaming one year old thing amusing and will giggle as Griffin pushes him away from me, my middle child ain't taking it so well. This means now I get a one year old and a three year old battling for my lap with voices raised in howling fury. Thank God I have enough lap to go around.