Whiner, Whiner

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

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

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

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

We weren't a pretty family this morning.

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

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

First Snow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boy Play

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

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

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

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

Election Day Pride

We like to start them young in our family:




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

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

You Do What You Have To Do

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

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

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

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

The Halloween Chronicles

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

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

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

Snarfing down pizza before the race to the sugar high:

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

Griffin meets our neighbor's Buffalo:

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

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

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

Oh Lovely Weekend

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

I like fall and the nesting it brings us.

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

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

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





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

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

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

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

Our Tyrant

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

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

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

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

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

Flashback

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ice Time

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

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

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

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

The ABCs

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

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

The Sign

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

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

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

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

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

Adventures with Apples and Some Pumpkins

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

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

All Around Nice Day

Friday was an all around nice day in our house.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I guess I would never make it in politics either.

Snuggles Wrapped in Fleece

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

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

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

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

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

It was a good way to start my day.

Sunday Worship

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

"Mom. Mom?"

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

"Mom, could you buy me a bible?"

"What?" I whisper back.

"A bible. Could we get one?"

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

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

It was an appropriate way to welcome a Sunday morning.

Picture of a Saturday

One giant group hug pre-Saturday soccer.

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

A Band of Ragamuffins

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

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

My little traveling band of ragamuffins.

Just Another Sunny Morning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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